


The Wild Dance Beneath the Moon

by Creyr



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Biting, Bloodplay, Canonical Character Death, Knotting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-10
Updated: 2012-06-10
Packaged: 2017-11-07 11:09:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/430424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creyr/pseuds/Creyr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Nick Burkhardt lost his parents at a young age, being exiled to the snowy Cascade Mountains with his eccentric aunt seems like the worst punishment imaginable. But his aunt is not what she seemed, and neither are some of the creatures that skulk in the woods surrounding her cabin. Nick finds himself in an unlikely friendship with a cat, an enchanted deer, and a young wolf that soothes his grief. But childhood doesn’t last forever and adult responsibilities can overwhelm even the closest of bonds. A dangerous heritage may set Nick at odds with his childhood companion, overriding the desires of his heart.</p>
<p>Remix of the Russian fairy tale 'Silvershod'</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wild Dance Beneath the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> This was for the Werewolf Big Bang. The artist who did the adorable drawings scattered through the fic was Amyeyl on Livejournal.

When Nick Burkhardt was twelve years old, his parents were killed in a dreadful accident. For a few terrifying weeks, Nick became part of the foster care system because his parents hadn’t left any instructions for his care in the event of their deaths. Perhaps they never expected that they would both be gone at the same time. Nick wasn’t quite sure what had happened to them, but the police said it was a freak occurrence, so perhaps he could forgive them for failing to anticipate it. However, that consolation didn’t make his time in foster care any easier. Social services finally located his mother’s only surviving relative, an aunt named Marie Kessler, who was a hunter living far up into the Cascade Mountains. They left him with his aunt, whom he hardly knew, and she who had never thought to have a child in her care was suddenly in charge of a curious boy with big eyes and dark hair that reminded her of her lost sister.

Nick clung to his small bag of possessions and looked around with wide eyes at the wild land where he suddenly found himself. He had grown up in San Francisco, where buildings stood in for mountains and the hills were covered with quirky houses. Now he could see nothing for miles except dark trees and up-thrusting rocks.

“Here’s the paperwork,” the social worker said to Aunt Marie. “If you’ll just sign each page, I’ll get out of your hair.”

Trying to ignore the hurt of being dumped off with as much indifference as the UPS man delivering a package, Nick looked around his new home.

The cabin wasn’t large. The downstairs seemed to be one big room that housed the kitchen, the dining area, and the lounge with a wood stove in the corner. A set of steep and narrow stairs led up to an open area that looked out over the great room, while a small alcove under the stairs opened into a bedroom. Nick wondered where he would sleep.

As he was looking around, a small reddish brown cat crept down the stairs. He watched her curiously as she met his gaze with unblinking green eyes. She gave a little chirp and then made her way over to him, skirting the sides of the room and walking along the furniture. She twined around his ankles when she finally reached him. Nick tried to decide where to put his bag down so he could pet the friendly animal.

  


“Idiot,” Aunt Marie said, slamming the door closed. Nick jumped. “Not you. Silly bureaucrat. As if I’d turn my own blood away.”

Not sure what to say to that, Nick kept quiet as the cat curled up at his feet. 

“I see you’ve met Maura,” Aunt Marie continued briskly. “Cheeky baggage showed up on my doorstep three years ago. Won’t leave now.”

“She’s very pretty,” Nick said, hoping that his aunt actually liked people who showed up on her doorstep. 

“The three of us will get on well, won’t we?” 

Nick nodded, still feeling unsure of his welcome.

“All right, we’ll put you up in the loft. The washroom has only a shower, but I expect you’ll get along well enough without a bubble bath?”

“Yes m’am.”

“You can call me Aunt Marie.”

Nick didn’t say anything to that. He’d been taught to be polite to strange adults and although she was his blood, Marie Kessler was still a stranger to him.

Following her up the narrow stairs, he felt a moment of vertigo but then they reached the landing, and looking out over the rest of the house, Nick felt he was in some high nest of a wild bird. He grinned, delighted with the fancy and resolved to enjoy his new surroundings.

“Put your things away, and then come down. I’ll work on dinner.”

A tiny closet backed up to the washroom and the room contained a dresser and a single bed. Nick stacked his clothes in the drawers, remembering the last time his mother had done the simple chore for him, but he refused to shed more tears over his losses and he swallowed against the thickness in his throat.

Instead, he went to the window tucked high under the gables and looked out over his new home. Endless ranks of trees marched away from the clearing where the cabin was, leading up to the bare heights of the mountains. Nick could see no break in the forest where other people might have dwellings. He wondered what his aunt had planned for him, like where he would go to school and whether he would meet other children in the remote backlands.

At dinner, Aunt Marie quizzed him about the things like he liked to do and how he did in school. He talked about his soccer team and how he was getting better at baseball. He pulled out his Gameboy and she seemed fascinated with Link as the tiny archer battled through the obstacles in his way.

“What about school?” he asked finally when she made no mention of getting him registered anywhere.

Pushing her chair back, she stretched her legs out, giving him an intent look. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I can teach you everything you need for the moment. I have books.”

Biting back the disappointed cry that wanted to escape, Nick nodded, feeling bleak about the prospect of not making any friends. 

“Winter’s coming on,” Marie continued. “Prime season for me, but the roads will be difficult and we’ll be snowed in. We’ll decide something come springtime.”

Not knowing what else he could say, Nick replied, “Yes, ma’m.”

“Now,” Aunt Marie continued briskly. “You’ll have your chores around here, and your studies, but most of the day you can have the run of the place. It won’t be so bad, will it?”

“No.”

“I have a few rules, but the one thing you must never do is leave this cabin once the sun has set. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, m’am.”

“Good. If you disobey, the consequences will be dire and if you’re lucky, the worst thing you’ll have to face is me. If you’re not lucky . . . well. Let’s hope it never comes to pass.”

That night, after Aunt Marie had tucked him into his bed up under the eaves, Nick fought against the tears that threatened as he remembered the life he had lost and the parents he would never see again. A shadow moved against the wall and then a sleek furry body settled against his hip, giving out a rumbling purr.

“Maura,” Nick said, grateful for the cat’s presence. He reached down and rubbed her chin carefully while she kneaded his side. Content at last, he drifted into sleep.

The next day he explored the house, finding the nooks and crannies, poring over Aunt Marie’s bookshelves. She seemed to have an overabundance of fairy tale books for a grownup, but Nick supposed that even adults could have eccentric interests, the same way his pal Trevor collected Batman comic books back in San Francisco. Then Nick wondered if he’d ever see Trevor again, and the thought was so disturbing that he left the house and wandered the margin of the forest, kicking at branches and stones as he walked. 

Maura joined him, sniffing at deadened stalks of plants and then crying plaintively at the trees. Nick smiled at her antics, huddling in his coat. The wind had a bitter tang to it like old iron.

“Snow on the wind,” Aunt Marie said that night at dinner, while she ladled out a stew that had been in the crock pot all day.

It finally occurred to Nick to ask, “How do you get your electricity, Aunt Marie? I didn’t notice any power lines.”

“Geothermal,” she replied. “I wouldn’t be very hidden if there were wires leading right to me, would I?”

Wanting to ask why she was hidden but afraid to broach a topic that seemed forbidden by its very nature, Nick asked instead, “Geothermal?”

“All of the Cascades are tectonically active,” she answered. “The Earth has its way of recycling, healing itself from the scars of time. One plate plunges into the fire to be destroyed and then reborn on the other side of the world.”

“I see,” Nick said, although he had no idea what she was talking about.

With a knowing smile, she elaborated, “Heat from within the Earth warms this place, spins a turbine to generate my own electricity. Cost a pretty penny to install, but worth it. We’re off the grid here. No disaster will ever take us down. And no one can track us by any easy means.”

Wondering if Aunt Marie was one of those survivalists who thought that the bible had dates when the world would end, Nick merely said, “Sounds cool. Can I see it?”

“I’ll show you around the place in a few days. Tomorrow, I’m going into Butte Falls to do some trading. We’re low on salt peter.”

“Oh,” Nick said, distressed at the idea of being left alone so soon. “How long will you be gone?”

“I’ll leave with the sun and be back by mid-afternoon. I smell a blizzard on the peaks and I want to be back here before it hits.”

She was gone by the time he woke up the next day. Morosely, he made himself some toast for breakfast, but Maura wound around his ankles, refusing to leave him in his misery. He grinned at the cat.

“Lets go outside while we can, okay Maura?”

She mewed in agreement and waited by the door as he cleaned up his breakfast things. The day had started out bright, but low clouds moved in as they wandered the meadow, hiding the distant peaks. Maura sang her song to the trees but nothing answered her. Nick shivered as the winds picked up and cut short their explorations.

Back inside the warm cabin, he made himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and poured a glass of milk, putting some in a dish for the cat. He curled up in a window seat with one of the fairy tale books and lost himself for a while in the world of fantastical creatures. 

The rumble of Marie’s big truck pulled him out of the latest story and he opened the door to welcome her home just as the first flakes of snow swirled down from the heights.

“Help me with the bags.”

Nick obeyed, finding canvas sacks of rice and flour in the truck, along with a barrel of something that smelled like sulfur. He wrinkled his nose at the odor, but Aunt Marie laughed.

“Salt peter. It makes gunpowder explode. I make my own loads.”

“Loads of what?” Nick asked.

“Buckshot, mostly. Depends what I’m after.”

Trying to decide whether he was okay with stew made from deer meat, Nick dropped the subject.

As she predicted, the blizzard hit around midnight. The howling wind woke Nick, sounding like the voices of beasts. He lay in the darkness, listening to the gale pouring across the eaves, but the loft was warm and his blankets were thick. Maura curled on the pillow beside his head, adding her purring voice to the general noise level. Smiling to himself, Nick turned over, pulling the blankets over his ears and ignoring the disturbance outside.

In the morning, Nick found the whole world to be muffled and white. A drift blocked the front door and frost flowers bloomed on the windows. Nothing moved in the forest and Maura curled up beside the fireplace, seemingly content to stay there all day without moving.

Aunt Marie sat at her desk all morning, working on the books, or so Nick supposed. His father had always been doing that, trying to make them balance. Nick was sure there was more to it than it appeared from the phrase, because his father always cursed when he had to do it.

He tried to get lost in the fairy tale book again, but the window seat seemed too chilly even after he dragged an afghan over from the coat closet. He pressed his nose against the chilly glass and watched as his breath condensed and froze into intricate patterns. Nick wanted to pull his Gameboy out but he’d already beaten the game once and it held no allure for him. With a start, he realized that Aunt Marie apparently didn’t own a television. The idea pulled him out of his bored stupor and he made a careful reconnaissance of the cabin, but could find no sign of a TV.

“Where’s your TV?” he asked finally.

Looking for a moment like she didn’t understand the question, so enthralled had she been with her task, Marie finally answered, “An idiot box? I don’t own one. Rot your brains, those things will.”

“Then what do you do for fun?” Nick whined, aware that he was being sulky but unable to shake his mood.

“I have my work,” Marie answered. “It keeps me busy.”

“Why do you live out here, Aunt Marie?” Nick asked. He was tired of the endless solitude and wishing not for the first time that he were back in his old life with his parents alive and his friends around him.

“I’m a hunter,” she answered. “This is were my prey lives.”

That was interesting, Nick decided. “What do you hunt?”

“Blutbad mostly.”

“Blue what?”

“Wolves,” Aunt Marie clarified. “You should know anyway. I’ll show you.”

Putting away the large book that she had been writing in, Aunt Marie tugged on a jacket and gloves. Excited about the thought that they were going outside, Nick quickly followed her example, bundling himself up against the raw wind.

The door from the kitchen was on the sheltered side of the cabin and mostly free of snow. Aunt Marie forged a path through the snow around the back of the cabin to the rough shed tucked into the side of the hillside and surrounded by thick fir trees. The door was kept shut with a heavy padlock. Pulling a ring of keys from her belt, she clicked the hasp, tugging it free. 

Nudging the door open with her hip, Aunt Marie waited for Nick to cross the threshold. “Come on, boy.”

Curiosity roused, Nick stepped over the threshold, wondering what the place might contain. To his shock, he found the walls covered with wolf hides, stretched and tacked and displayed, hide on top of hide, too many to count, representing an orgy of slaughter that boggled his mind.

  


“Have to get them when they’re fully changed,” Aunt Marie was saying. “Otherwise they’re nothing more than a dead body.”

“What?” Nick gasped, trying to breathe through his nose because he was afraid if he opened his mouth then he’d not keep his lunch down.

Giving her nephew a compassionate look, she herded him out of the shed. “Never you mind. Some things will wait until you’re older.”

“What else do you hunt?” Nick asked, desperately trying to clear his mind from the horror in the shed.

She answered, “A powerful creature called Dragotsennost’olen. It takes the shape of a small stag with antlers that never drop in the winter. He can strike his hoof on the ground and jewels fly out. No one has ever seen it.”

“If you can’t see it, how do you know it’s real?” Nick queried.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t see it, but they are very rare, more so than unicorns.”

“Unicorns?” Nick asked, wondering whether he had suddenly stumbled into a nightmare. Or perhaps it was a dream. He couldn’t tell, although up to that moment, he would have sworn that Aunt Marie was sane.

“Hmm, perhaps you are too young, yet. But know this . . . there is a world beyond what most humans realize, a dangerous world and it is the duty of our kind to keep order between both worlds.”

“What . . .?” Nick started, his childish curiosity getting the better of his fears.

“No,” she said. “We’ll speak no more of it. When the time is right, I will tell you everything, but for now, enjoy your childhood.”

Thinking to himself that his childhood hadn’t been very enjoyable so far and missing his parents more than he could say, Nick let her drop the subject. In any case, he wasn’t sure that he wanted to learn the truth behind all the wolf skins in her shed. It represented a level of slaughter that made him uncomfortable.

Once back in the cabin, he picked up Maura and curled up in the window seat, letting the cat’s warmth and rumbling purring soothe the ragged edges of his soul. He knew that Aunt Marie had no use for his tears, but some slipped out anyway and Maura didn’t complain when her fur got wet.

∼∴∼

“The moon will be full in a few more nights,” Aunt Marie said a few days later. “There’s a nest of Blutbad on the other side of the pass. Prime time to take them.”

As she moved through the cabin, she picked up items and stuffed them in a large rucksack. Wondering what was happening, Nick followed along behind her, wincing when she pulled a box of ammunition out of the cupboard. 

“I’m heading out to track them,” she told him.

“What do Blutbad to that’s so bad?” Nick asked.

“They eat people,” she answered, her voice harsh and grim.

“Oh.” He shivered, not exactly in fear, but with a sort of horror at the very idea. He decided a Blutbad would have to be crazy to come anywhere near Aunt Marie, and thus had no worries for his own safety. 

“I’ll be gone for a few days,” Aunt Marie said as she pulled the pack over her shoulders. “You have plenty of food. Keep to the house and absolutely do not go outside at night.”

“Yes, Aunt Marie.”

He knew the rules by heart and had no intentions of drawing the inevitable scolding that would result if he violated that particular one.

“I mean it, boy. I don’t care how bored you get . . . no going outside when the sun goes down.”

“I won’t,” he promised, not knowing what else he could do to convince her.

With a smile, she ruffled his hair. “All right then. You’re a good boy, Nick.”

Suddenly worried about her, one woman against whatever prowled in the mountains, Nick said, “Be careful.”

“No worries, boy,” she replied cheerfully. “Most creatures fear me more than anything else in the world.”

“Okay.”

With another quick caress, she said, “See you in a week.”

And then she was gone. Her long strides took her to the edge of the glade as she disappeared under the first rank of trees.

Nick stood on the porch for a long time, watching the place where she had vanished. Feeling like his world had tilted again, Nick sighed heavily and then stepped back into the cabin. Standing at the doorway, he looked around the place that had become his home over the past few weeks, his narrow kingdom. He would have liked to run with his friends to the corner quick mart to browse the brightly stocked shelves and spend his spare change on a pack of gum. More than his other losses, the lack of companionship his own age weighed most heavily on him at that moment.

Spending the day puttering around the cabin and trying to beat back the terror of being alone again, Nick felt like he might be going insane. Maura paced along with him, as though she felt his restlessness.

After making himself some boxed macaroni and cheese for dinner, Nick curled up in the window seat, trying to will away his antsy feeling.

The full moon lit the snow like it was daylight. Staring out the window, Nick felt the pull of the forest that woke the urge to go press his footprints on the unblemished snow and explore the silent woods. Never had he been so close to defying Aunt Marie’s strictest order. At the door, Maura mewed imperiously.

“We can’t.”

Extending her claws, the cat pawed at the door. Fearing what his aunt would say if Maura wrecked the finish, Nick finally gave in.

“I hope you freeze,” he muttered as he turned the deadbolt.

As the door swung open, the cat stepped through, her tail waving like a battle flag. Nick meant to close it immediately, but he hesitated, caught again by the beauty of the frigid night. Ice limned the trees, making them seem to glow in the moonlight. The snow glimmered in the pale light as though the moon lay beneath the pure and unbroken white blanket. The perfect circle of the moon sailed just above the tree tops, appearing to be tangled in the their branches.

Unable to resist the magic of the scene, Nick stepped further onto the porch. He half expected Maura to complain about getting her paws wet as she stepped daintily onto the snow, but the cat picked her way through the drifts, seemingly intent on reaching the trees that ringed the cabin.

“Psst! Maura! Come back!”

The cat ignored him. Nick grumbled a bad word under his breath. “I’m going to lock you out,” he warned.

Instead of following up on his threat, Nick ducked back inside the cabin, grabbing his coat off the hook and shoving his feet into his boots. When he got back to the porch, Maura was halfway to the tree line. Grateful for the full moon that lit the clearing perfectly, Nick started after her.

“Aunt Marie is going to kill you,” Nick told the cat, although he was well aware that Maura couldn’t possibly hear him. But the night seemed to call for whispers instead of shouting.

At the margin of the forest where the first rank of trees thrust their branches into the light, she stopped, seeming to wait for him. Relieved that he wouldn’t have to chase the wily cat through the trees, Nick hurried forward. Perhaps four meters from his target, Nick realized that he and the cat weren’t the only occupants of the glade. Off to his left, a magnificent stag with a spreading rack of antlers stepped out from under the trees.

Gulping nervously, Nick noted in some distant part of his mind that all the stags should have dropped their antlers already, this deep into the winter. Aunt Marie’s tale of the magical stag that had the power of the sun in his hooves bloomed in Nick’s mind and he held his breath for fear that he’d frighten the animal away.

The stag shook his crowned head and belled, loud and clear, a challenge to something off to Nick’s left. Hardly daring to breathe, Nick swiveled his head, choking back a cry when a wolf trotted out from under the trees.

His instincts screamed for him to run, but some unknown fortitude kept him rooted in place. And in spite that fact that she got herself into the mess in the first place, he wouldn’t leave Maura on her own.

“We’re in really big trouble,” he whispered. “Maura. Come back. Maybe it won’t see us.”

The stag gave another clarion call, leaping to the large boulder that pushed out from the blanket of snow a few meters from the edge of the glade. His hooves rang as he clattered across the rock. At the apex of the stone, he picked up his foreleg, one hoof glittering brightly in the moonlight, and struck the rock with it. Color arced from the contact, resolving into jewels that glowed in the moonlight, shifting and twisting as they fell hissing into the snow.

“The deer,” Nick breathed, enchanted by the sight. 

He couldn’t remember the name that Aunt Marie had given it, but he was certain that this was the same creature that she had been searching for. He thought how much some people might pay to capture the animal and take advantage of his jewel-making ability. Strangely enough, Nick had no desire for the precious gems and was content to watch them fall in the moonlight. Perhaps they would be there come spring, perhaps not. He knew in his heart that there were far more important things than riches in the world, and if the stag could have brought his parents back, Nick would rather have them than all the treasure one magical deer could create.

The wolf sat calmly, ignoring both the stag and the boy, its eyes fixed on the small cat.

Scolding and chirruping as she walked, Maura stalked over to the wolf, ignoring both the stag’s calls and Nick’s pleas. When she reached the other creature, the cat stood still, extending her neck and smelling at the beast’s muzzle. Nick fully expected the wolf to devour her with one chomp, but it looked more curious than hungry and allowed Maura’s explorations. She batted playfully at its nose and then scraped the sides of her jaw along its snout. The wolf didn’t seem put out by that maneuver, which Nick had read was a cat’s way of scent-marking its territory. Maura leaned against him, walking back and forth, waving her tail under the wolf’s jaws as though she meant to challenge him, but the wolf tolerated her without protest.

  


Giving one last cheerful mew, Maura bounded away, headed in the direction of the stag, which was still eying the wolf. She leapt onto his back and then the stag took a leap as well, straight into the forest.

“Oh, shit,” Nick whispered, deciding that the situation called for swear words. As long as Maura had been there, he’d felt relatively safe with the huge predator. Now that the cat and the stag were both gone, Nick felt like he should make a run for the cabin, although he was almost positive that behaving like prey would certainly get him chased.

On the other hand, Maura had seemed confident that the wolf wouldn’t hurt her so maybe he could risk a few more minutes, just to see what it would do.

On the third hand, and Nick was getting confused by all the arguments in his head, there were all the wolf skins in the shed. Maybe this one had come to the cabin with the idea of getting revenge on Aunt Marie for slaughtering so many of its kind. Aunt Marie probably had a really good reason for the no-going-outside rule, other than just general paranoia.

“Okay, I’ll tell the truth . . . I have no idea what to do here. Maura trusted you, but I’m afraid you’re going to eat me.”

The wolf cocked its head like it was listening to him, so Nick decided to keep talking. He looked the wolf over carefully, noting that it was thin, but didn’t looked starved, so that was a point against it devouring him. 

“You’re the first wolf I’ve met,” he continued. “Although I know lots of dogs. They like me. Wait . . . is it an insult to compare wolves to dogs?”

Standing up, the wolf shook itself like it was coming out of a lake, sending snow flying everywhere. Nick tensed, preparing to run, but the wolf merely lifted his nose, scenting the air. While the wolf was distracted, Nick studied it, deciding that its lankiness was due to youth rather than starvation. The wolf was almost gangly, sort of like all of Nick’s other friends who hadn’t grown into their legs yet. Sadly, Nick was sure that he had already grown into his and wouldn’t get much taller. His father hadn’t been huge. 

Dragging his thoughts back to the matter at hand, namely the large wolf that inhabited the clearing with him, Nick decided that the wolf must be around two years old. Which, if he counted in dog years as he totally planned to do, not that he would tell the wolf that, would make him about fourteen, close enough in age to Nick himself. 

The wolf stalked over the base of the rock where the deer had been and lifting his leg, let loose a stream of urine that hissed as it hit the snow. Nick laughed in spite of himself.

“Okay fellow, nice work.” 

The wolf turned to him and it seemed to Nick that the beast smiled at him. 

“I’m going to trust Maura,” Nick informed him. “If you wanted to eat me, you could have done it a long time ago.”

Pulling his gloves off, Nick extended his hand the way he customarily did for the neighborhood dogs, forcing himself to stillness and patience. He refused to be afraid, although a small portion of his brain wasn’t completely convinced that the wolf wouldn’t bite his hand off.

The wolf seemed equally cautious, pacing forward one careful paw at a time. Nick kept his position, watching warily as the animal moved closer to him. His snout brushed against Nick’s hand and then a long tongue swiped over his palm. Giggling, Nick knelt in the snow, getting eye to eye with the animal.

Now that they had become acquainted with each other, the wolf seemed to be vastly amused, a grin curling his lips as his tongue lolled out. Daringly, Nick curled his fingers in the thick ruff of fur around the animal’s neck. The pelt was much softer than he expected, the outer hairs longer and stiffer, but the undercoat was as soft as down.

The wolf tolerating his exploration with good grace, and Nick slowly relaxed, leaning against the big animal. Together they watched the moon sail across the glade while the stars wheeled overhead. Nick felt warm and drowsy, and then with a start, realized that he was about to take a nap in the presence of a fierce predator. He wondered how he had gotten so comfortable.

“I should go in,” he said regretfully. The wolf nuzzled his ear, drawing another giggle from Nick. “Okay, boy, I get it. We’re pals now, right?”

The wolf licked his face, once again seeming like he was laughing at Nick, who smiled back at him. 

“Be careful,” Nick said, suddenly remembering the wolf skins in Aunt Marie’s shed. “I won’t hurt you, but my aunt is a little bit obsessed, okay?”

Standing up, Nick brushed at the snow clinging to his bottom. “Maybe we can hang out again? You’re pretty good company.”

The wolf sneezed and lumbered to his feet, giving a sharp yip. He turned away and darted into the forest, quickly getting lost among the trees. Nick felt a little grumpy that his only companions were animals and that they all left him to wander around in the woods.

Wandering back to the cabin, he felt exhausted and he wondered how late it had gotten. He couldn’t have said how long he sat with the wolf, but he was too tired to consider the weirdness of that.

The cabin seemed empty and echoing without either Maura or his aunt. Nick tried not to feel lonely as he climbed into his bed burrowing under the blankets. But the hour was late and he was exhausted. He slid into slumber with visions of a jeweled deer and a friendly wolf.

In the morning, Maura was back, curled up on his pillow as though she had never been gone. Nick stroked her ears, relieved to see her and reassured by her purring.

He puttered around the cabin for a couple of hours, fixing breakfast for himself and opening a tin for Maura. Finding himself unable to settle into reading or some other quiet, indoor activity, Nick opened the front door and stared out at the snow-draped world. He wondered if there were tracks on the edge of the clearing that revealed their nocturnal activities.

Deciding that he wanted to check, just to make sure it wasn’t all a dream, Nick told Maura, “It can’t hurt just to look, right?”

She mewed in agreement, so Nick pulled out his coat and boots, struggling into the heavy garments. The wind caught him as he stepped off the porch, slamming the breath inside his lungs and searing the inside of his nose. Nick gasped and pulled his scarf over the lower half of his face. Unconcerned with the cold, Maura took an oblique path away from the cabin. Not having the patience to follow her ramblings, Nick made a beeline for the boulder at the edge of the clearing.

They skirted the edges of the forest, and Maura picked her way through the snow behind him. Nick supposed she was using him to forge her path so she wouldn’t get her belly wet, but her antics made him smile. When they reached the rock, Nick swiveled a few times, trying to decide which way the wolf had gone. 

The low hanging branch on a twisted tree sparked Nick’s memory and he made his way to the edge of the woods. Staring at the shadows lying under the trees even in full daylight, Nick wondered where the wolf was and if he would come back again.

Deciding that he wouldn’t get what he wanted by lurking about, Nick stepped out of the clearing and into the forest. Part of him was perplexed that he was more interested in the wolf than all the gems the stag had struck from his hoof. With a mental shrug, Nick figured that he could dig in the snow for them if he really wanted them. But the wolf had been friendly, and at the moment, Nick was more interested in a friend than he was in riches.

Cautiously checking the sky, Nick decided that he still had plenty of time before dark, although the low, cloudy sky made finding the sun almost impossible. Nick reassured himself that he had been fine out after dark the previous night, so this one should be no different. Under the dark evergreens, however, the air seemed already quiet with the on-coming night, although Nick was almost certain it was still early afternoon.

He stepped under the trees, trying to find any sort of a path. Maura followed along behind him. The snow crunched under his footsteps, and thinking about he predators that could be lurking in the forest, the noise made him nervous.

Finding his way blocked by a huge fallen tree, Nick debated crawling under it versus turning around. While he was thinking about it, a large form detached itself from the shadows and walked along the length of the downed tree.

It was the wolf.

Holding his breath, Nick watched the beast stalk closer along the log, hoping that it remembered him from the night before. The wolf jumped onto the path directly in front of Nick, but he held his ground, aware that if the animal didn’t remember him or changed its mind, there wasn’t much he could do about it at this point. He couldn’t see any malice in the beast’s eyes, which were an unusual shade of green-gold that almost reminded him of a cat, but was nothing like any dog Nick had ever seen before.

“Hey.”

The wolf moved closer and butted his head against Nick’s arm. With a laugh, Nick buried his hands in the wolf’s ruff, scritching his long ears. The wolf jumped back, putting his rump up and stretching his front paws out in what Nick recognized as a play bow.

“Okay, I’m in,” he said. “What are we doing?”

Nick half expected the wolf to bark or yip or something like a dog would, but the beast was eerily silent as he whirled away, waiting eagerly for Nick to follow. It hit home for him more than anything else that the wolf was a dangerous predator and not some neighborhood dog, but Nick just couldn’t find any part of him that was afraid of him.

The wolf led him through the forests, showing him deadfalls where tangled roots made a good shelter from the wind, hidden places along the banks of the stream, and places where the trees grew so tall and straight that Nick felt dizzy when he tried to stare up to the canopy. The snow crunched under their feet as they walked, and Nick felt like shouting with happiness as the sun pierced the clouds and glittered gold on the white draped branches of the trees around him.

Nick found his steps dragging by the time the wolf finally halted. Looking up, Nick discovered that they were back in the clearing, with the cabin right in front of him. He smiled at the wolf.

“Thanks. I had a really great day.”

He leaned down to hug his new friend. The wolf swiped at his face with his long tongue, and Nick giggled, using his sleeve to clean off.

  


“See you tomorrow,” Nick called as he raced for the porch. Turning around, he couldn’t find any trace of the wolf.

After he ate breakfast the next day, Nick eagerly dressed in outdoor clothes and dashed towards the woods. The sun was out, driving away the clouds and lighting the forest. Nick found the wolf almost immediately, and they spent the day racing amongst the trees.

“You need a name,” Nick murmured as the wolf flopped down beside him after they had both run themselves into exhaustion, and stumbled into a small glade where the sun poked through the endless green. The trees had died off, perhaps from lightning, and winter dried grass grew in the place where the sun could reach the forest floor.

Sitting up, Nick eyed his companion. “I’ll call you Eddie,” he told the wolf. “My mom used to love this TV show when she was a kid. The little boy was a werewolf. Eddie Munster.”

The wolf raised his head and laughed at Nick, but he didn’t care. “I know you’re not a pet, and Eddie isn’t your name, but I’m going to call you that, because you’re my friend.”

Aunt Marie came home that night. Nick was bursting to tell her all the things that he had done and dared since she left on her hunting trip, but some part of his brain urged him to silence. It may have been because of all the wolf skins she had carried into the shed.

The next day he had lessons, and although he didn’t protest, he longed to run free through the forest with Eddie. He hoped the wolf had enough sense to stay away if he smelled the hunter. Maura, of course, had no need for books so she dashed across the clearing soon after breakfast. Nick thought jealously of her romping with the wolf and the stag.

When Aunt Marie disappeared into the curing shed after breakfast, Nick took the opportunity to slip off into the forest. He found Eddie almost immediately and wrapped his arms around the creature’s neck.

“Don’t let her catch you,” he whispered.

As the days passed, and winter tightened its grip on the mountains, Nick found himself running through the forest with his wolf friend whenever Aunt Marie disappeared, either hunting or working on the skins. When he was free underneath the trees, with Eddie warm and solid beside him, Nick forgot for a time the tragedy that had brought him there in the first place. It was only at night, alone in his bed, without the wolf or his studies to distract him, that Nick would remember and miss his parents dreadfully. Maura usually sensed these episodes and would comfort him with her rumbling purr and soft furry body curled up beside him like a shield against the darkness.

Towards the end of February, a warm spell melted the snow blocking the road, leaving it free for Aunt Marie’s SUV with four-wheel drive to make it out and onto the main road.

“We need news,” Marie said one morning. “And supplies.”

Nick knew better than to argue or beg her not to leave him alone by that point. Besides, her absence would give him plenty of time to play with Eddie. “Okay.”

“You get through that chapter in your maths book while I’m gone,” Marie ordered. 

With a smile, Nick said, “I like this chapter. It’s pretty easy with the variables and all.”

She grinned at him, and Nick knew that she was pleased with his progress and his brains. He was glad that he had something to contribute to whatever plan she had in mind for him.

“Sounds about right,” she agreed. “You stick to that. I’ll see you in two days.”

“Yes, m’am.”

“Stay out of the woods!” she shouted as she pulled out with a full load of skins.

Nick was glad that she was already gone so he wouldn’t have to lie to her. The truth was that he no intention of staying away from Eddie. He hurried through his homework and then dashed into the forest, calling for the wolf as he went.

He found Eddie in the usual place and they spent the rest of the daylight frolicking among the shadows cast by the pines. When the sun headed west, Eddie led him back to the clearing, but Nick hesitated. 

“Can I stay with you?” he asked, not wanting to be alone in the cabin. He had no idea where Eddie actually lived, although he supposed that the wolf must have a den of some sort, or even a place where the rest of his pack rested. Nick realized that he had never considered Eddie’s family, but he supposed that the wolf must have a pack somewhere.

Eddie butted his chest, seeming to urge him to the cabin.

“She’s not home,” Nick explained. “Let me just go make some sandwiches for dinner. Please? Let me spend the night with you.”

The wolf sat back on his haunches so Nick took that as agreement. Dashing into the cabin, he hurriedly stuffed some portable food into a rucksack and then ran back out. Eddie was where he had left him.

Leading the way through the thick trees, Eddie skirted the edge of the creek and then turned towards the higher peaks. Nick followed, excitement brewing in his belly. He knew that what he was doing was potentially dangerous, and would almost certainly get him in trouble if Marie ever found out. But the lure of spending the night outside with his best friend was too much to resist, and Nick never once questioned the oddity of calling a wolf his best friend.

When they reached the place where the trees dropped away and the rocky heights soared up, Eddie led them to a declivity where small water way fell over the edge of the stones. A shallow cave opened up beside the flowing water. Eddie ducked inside and Nick followed with wide eyes, looking around eagerly.

Eddie made himself comfortable on a bed of leaves at the back of the cave, and Nick settled down beside him, leaning against the solid form of the young wolf. He pulled the food out of the bag, sharing cold cuts with the wolf and nibbling on a roll. 

Darkness gathered under the trees below them as the sun disappeared. The crescent moon popped over the horizon, slender and sharp. Nick yawned and shivered, wishing he’d remembered to grab a blanket or a sleeping bag. But Eddie curled around him, shielding him from the light breeze and Nick burrowed into the thick fur, grateful for the wolf’s offered warmth.

  


In his dreams, Nick felt someone run gentle hands through his hair and a murmuring voice spoke of running wild beneath the moon. With a contented sigh, Nick snuggled into the fur, slipping more deeply into sleep.

When the sun slipped up over the jagged peaks and gleamed off the mica in the rocks, sending a beam of light into the hidden den, Nick stirred and stretched. He felt happy and content, like his heart was healing. He turned over, but Eddie wasn’t beside him any longer. Pushing down his slight disappointment at the absence of his friend, Nick crawled out from under the rocks, only to find Eddie guarding the small hollow. The wolf perked up his ears when Nick emerged, clearly happy to see him awake.

Nick would never understand how Eddie could communicate so many emotions without speaking a word. He walked over to the wolf, and wrapped his arms around the animal’s sturdy shoulders, burying his face in Eddie’s ruff and inhaling the comforting smell.

“Thank you,” Nick whispered. “I feel a lot better.”

Eddie huffed in his ear and Nick giggled at the tickling sensation as he always did. Sometimes he thought that Eddie did it on purpose, just to make him laugh, but he knew that he was probably ascribing more consciousness to the wolf than he probably possessed. The fancy made Nick happy, though, so he let himself imagine that Eddie understood everything about him.

The rumbling of Nick’s stomach interrupted them, and Nick pulled away reluctantly. “I guess I should get back. Aunt Marie will be back this afternoon and she’ll pitch a fit if I’m not there.”

With a snort of agreement, Eddie turned towards the cabin, unerringly leading Nick through the dense forest. 

However, when he walked in the front door, he found Marie in the kitchen, sipping a cup of tea. Nick winced internally, expecting that he would receive a crushing punishment and wondering how long he would be confined to the cabin.

“Good morning,” she said cheerfully, with no hint of what she planned to do about Nick’s defiance.

“Morning,” he responded warily, going to the pantry and pulling out some oatmeal. 

Wondering if she was trying to fake him out, get him to confess his wrongdoing without her having to question him, Nick decided that he would act like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Pulling out a pot, he set to heating milk on the stove and mixing the porridge into it.

When it was finished, he sat across from her and picked up a spoonful of his breakfast. The food on his stomach helped calm some of the roiling feeling that he’d experienced as soon as he walked into the cabin. The night before, sleeping wild with Eddie, had been the best night of his life since his parents died, and he didn’t want to lose the contented feeling so soon.

“I’ve been unfair to you,” she said, finally breaking the silence.

“Huh?”

Nick thought he might choke on his breakfast, as that was the last thing he had expected her to say.

With a gentle smile, she continued, “A boy your age can’t be expected to be alone all the time. You need friends, people your age that can share your interests.”

While Nick was in complete agreement with that statement, he wondered where the conversation was going. 

“Uh-hm,” he agreed, bending his head over the bowl.

“I thought I could keep you up here, but this life isn’t suited for a young boy.”

Nick raised his head at that, panic slicing through him. “Please don’t send me away. I’d rather be with you than have friends.”

The specter of foster care that the social worker had raised loomed over him. His previous taste of the system had left him full of bad feelings, and he was terrified that he’d be forced into it again if Aunt Marie wouldn’t keep him.

“Oh, Nick,” Aunt Marie said. “Never. I’d never send you away. I’m coming with you.”

“Where are we going?”

She smiled. “Back to San Francisco. I need to trade the last pelts in the shed and we need to pack, but we’ll leave as soon as we can. We’ll get you back in school. You’re a smart boy, I’m sure you can catch up these last few months.”

Part of Nick rejoiced that he was going back to the city and his friends, but another part of him regretted that he would have to leave the wilderness and his friendship with the wolf. Packing the cabin consumed his time, but he chafed to get away into the forest to tell Eddie goodbye. Winter had broken its hold on the mountains before Nick found a chance to slip out unnoticed. 

The wild plum scented the air as he walked, and the wild onions crushed under his boots in the damp chill of the early spring. Nick battered his way through the undergrowth, trying to be as quiet as possible, although he was aware that he failed in that regard. Breaking through the thick trees into a small clearing, Nick finally found the wolf. The animal sat on its haunches, tongue lolling out, looking for all like he was laughing at Nick’s clumsy passage through the forest.

With a relieved sigh, Nick said, “Eddie. I found you.”

Stepping forward without fear, he knelt in front of the wolf. The beast sniffed his hair, nuzzling his nose through the thicket before licking Nick’s ear. Wrapping his arm around the strong neck now that he’d been acknowledged, Nick buried his face in the wolf’s ruff, letting the familiar smell of his friend wash away his sorrows for a time.

“She’s taking me away,” Nick said finally.

Making an inquisitive noise, the wolf wuffled something in Nick’s ear.

Pulling back a little, Nick said, “Don’t let any hunters get you, you hear me? You stay safe. I couldn’t bear it if . . .”

Gripping the animal tightly, and wishing that the wolf could return his embrace, Nick huddled against him. The wolf seemed to understand Nick’s need for comfort and didn’t flinch away or try to get him to play. Sinking into the comfort offered by the wild animal, Nick almost thought he could hear the wolf calling his name, but that was a ridiculous fantasy.

The shifting angle of the sun at last told Nick that he needed to return before Marie decided to look for him. Staring into the green-gold eyes of the wolf, Nick tried to memorize them, their intelligence, their clever wiles. Knowing that even if some hunter like Marie didn’t kill him, the wolf’s lifespan was probably much less than his own, Nick wondered if he would ever see his friend again as the years of his schooling stretched out before him in all their bleak loneliness.

“I’ll miss you,” Nick told him. “Be careful.”

The wolf nuzzled his face one last time as Nick stood up. He refused to look back as he made his way back to his aunt’s house.

When they were ready to leave, with Aunt Marie’s truck packed and her Airstream trailer attached, they couldn’t find Maura. Nick looked all over the house and both of the sheds, but there was no sign of the small red-brown cat. He paced the edge of the woods, calling, “Maura!”

“We’ll have to leave her, Nick. Get in the truck.”

“She’s my friend,” Nick protested.

Aunt Marie gave him an odd look that he couldn’t interpret. “She’ll be fine. We’re going to the city so you can make real friends.”

Staring at the distance peaks, and hoping his thoughts would somehow reach through the space to the small cat, Nick said to himself, _I hope your stag keeps you safe._

Nick wanted to keep arguing, but he could sense it would be pointless. If Maura didn’t want to be found, she could disappear for days on end. As the truck rumbled under the trees, Nick could only hope that Maura had somehow found the magical stag and they were together. Barring that, he prayed that Eddie would look out for her, never once questioning the wolf’s forbearance towards eating the cat.

∼∴∼

San Francisco seemed huge and alien when they moved back. Nick could barely remember the days when he would have given anything to move back to the city. His heart longed for the clear air and long reaches of trees in the mountains. He was tired of his life constantly changing, and felt like he would never find stability again. Nothing was the same as it had been while his parents had been alive, but he loved Marie desperately for trying. Gradually, the scattered fragments of his life reassembled themselves into a picture that made sense to him, and the lure of the forest faded.

When he graduated high school, Marie considered it a job well done and retreated back into the mountains. He thought that she had probably snuck up there a few times during his teenaged years, so her move wasn’t much of a surprise. She wouldn’t let him go back though and all family get-togethers since then had been at wherever Nick lived. 

Moving on with his life, Nick majored in criminal justice and sailed through the police academy feeling like he had found his purpose in life. Police work suited both his compassionate side and his sharp intellect. His superiors recognized both, and Nick made detective with relative ease.

When Aunt Marie summoned him back to the forests after fifteen years of refusing to let him visit, she told him that it was both urgent and might be time consuming.

Their last meeting had been several years previously and her summons worried him. Nick took a leave of absence from his job with the San Francisco police department, and told his girlfriend that he would be back when he concluded his family business. As he drove north, he wondered what crisis had prompted Aunt Marie to call him back to the mountains. Nick had been considering how to work up to the issue of introducing her to his girlfriend, Juliette. Maybe this trip would give him the perfect opportunity. 

He knew that Juliette expected him to take the next step – she thought they would move in together and work on deepening their relationship with an eye towards eventually getting married. That was the expected path and it was what all of his friends did. Some part of him was reluctant to make that move. Nick was sure that he loved Juliette, but a tiny voice in his head that was impossible to ignore kept telling him that there was something missing. He had no idea what it might be, and hoped that getting a little distance, both physically and emotionally, would give him the insight to figure out what he needed to do next.

In any case, he thought he could probably use a break, as he had started seeing some weird things as he wandered the streets of his city. Considering he lived in San Francisco, that was saying quite a lot. He had been a police officer for three years, and had been a detective for nearly a year, and he knew that burnout was a huge risk in his profession, so he grabbed the opportunity to take a break.

The rutted road that turned off the state route didn’t look at all familiar, but Nick supposed that the last time he’d been there he had been twelve, so he couldn’t expect to remember the way. But as soon as his truck penetrated the canopy of trees, Nick felt a sense of peace descend over him. He couldn’t really explain it because he’d spent only a few months in the forest during the most traumatic period of his life. But somehow the place had settled into his bones and he felt like he was coming home.

The woman who greeted him at the door was nearly unrecognizable. Her normally dark strawberry blonde hair was entirely gone and her frame was gaunt. Fear slammed into him like a pouncing predator.

“Aunt Marie?”

Holding out a hand that shook slightly, she pulled him close, the brief contact her version of a hug.

“I know. Shocking isn’t it?” she said with a hint of a smile.

“What’s going on?” he asked, but knowing the loss of her hair could mean only one thing – the dreaded scourge of modern life, the big C. He could barely bring himself to think of the name for it.

“Come inside. Put your bags down. We’ll talk.”

Pulling his duffle out of the cab of the truck, Nick tried to calm the frantic beat of his heart. She had been like a mother to him for so long that sometimes he couldn’t remember his biological mother. It was clearly his turn to be there for her and he needed to get a grip so he could do whatever she needed.

She was standing at the kitchen window starting out at the peaks that were nearly bare of snow in the late summer heat. Nick trudged up the stairs to the loft where he found his room almost the way he had left it long ago. He threw his bag in a corner, deciding that he would worry about unpacking later. Sitting on the bed, he wondered what driving urge led her to lead such a solitary life where nothing seemed to change. He had thought that she’d been happy in the city, but her fast retreat back up here told a different story.

Deciding that delaying whatever she had to tell him wouldn’t benefit either of them, Nick pulled his courage together and walked back down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“Tea?”

“Uh, sure,” he answered, resisting the urge to insist on helping and taking a seat at the table. He suspected that her fierce independence hadn’t changed any over the years, or else she would have called for him sooner.

She placed a cup in front of him and then took a seat opposite him, her frail hands clasping the mug as though she was trying to soak in its warmth. He noticed a cane leaning against the counter, and the fear he’d been trying to hold back returned in a rush.

When he was certain he could speak without his voice cracking, he asked, “How bad is it?”

She gave him a small smile. “I suppose I shouldn’t try to fool a detective.”

“Aunt Marie . . .”

“They say it could be days. Or weeks. Or even months. The fools don’t have a clue.”

“Why are you up here?” he demanded. “Why aren’t you someplace where they can take care of you?”

She met his gaze, her blue eyes weak and watery, but at the same time full of a calm knowledge. “Because I know. It will be weeks, at the most. There’s too much to do.”

Part of Nick wanted to shake her. “What could be so important that you’d give up comfort and care?”

“I can’t help you if I’m in some hospital, hooked up to a bunch of machines.”

Thoroughly perplexed by that point, Nick asked, “Help me? What do I need help with?”

“This took me by surprise, ruined all my plans. I meant to give you more time, give you the training you’ll need.”

“Training?”

“Our family legacy.” 

She got up and now that he was looking, he could see how hesitant her steps were, as though she wasn’t sure of her footing. She picked up a huge leather-bound book and carried it to the table to put in front of Nick.

“We come from an ancient line of hunters. We keep the balance between the creature world and the humans.”

“What the hell?” 

He couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice, but she merely gestured to the book. 

“Nick. Have you been seeing strange things in some people when you look at them? As though they had a separate being under the surface of their skin?”

Nick remembered the times he thought he’d been hallucinating when he walked through the streets recently, when the weirdness level of San Francisco had been amped up far beyond the usual. He’d seen beautiful women who looked like they carried rot in place of their smooth complexions, and men with horns and tusks. He’d thought he was heading for a breakdown.

Doing as she commanded, he opened the book, immediately seeing one of the same creatures he’d thought he’d imagined on the illustrated page. His anger melting away, Nick slowly turned the pages, catching labels and descriptions that didn’t make any sense. The book gave truth to a whole fantastical world that most people would dismiss as fairy tales, but it seemed to be an illustrated field guide to a nightmare.

“What is this?” he asked finally. “What is happening to me?”

She covered his hand with her own, giving a comforting squeeze. “You are starting to be able to see the Wesen. We are called Grimms, after the brothers who first started the work of classifying the creature world. Their work was dismissed as children’s tales, but we of this bloodline know better. We work alone and in secret.”

“What bloodline?”

“Since ancient times, there have been guardians to protect the balance between the seen and unseen. Most humans cannot see the creatures that walk the world with them, but we Grimms can see what hides beneath fair appearances. We can see their Wesen identities.”

“Creatures?”

She patted the book. “This is but one of many. The world is vast and we record what we discover to pass the knowledge along, but we may never know everything.”

“Will I have any special powers?”

“No more than what a normal human would have, although ours are enhanced. Heightened observation skills, faster reflexes. The critical skill is knowledge, though. To understand what you face and what their weak points are. A Grimm must always study and must record what he learns to pass down to the next in line.”

“So what does all this mean?”

“I’m dying,” Marie answered. “Soon you will take up the mantle of the Grimm of our line. You will find yourself with your senses on overdrive. When the Grimm came on me, it knocked me on my ass for a week. You’ll adapt. Perhaps it’s for the best that the powers are coming to you slowly.”

Some of the text was in different languages, some that Nick could recognize, and others that he had never encountered before. A few entries were in English, some in shaky script and others in bold printing.

“This is crazy,” he said, closing the book.

“Yes,” Aunt Marie agreed. “That doesn’t make it any less true.”

“What are you asking of me?”

“I’m not asking anything,” she corrected him. “Your bloodline demands it. You must hunt the evil creatures, protect the human world, and keep the balance.”

“When I was a kid and you told me you hunted for a living, this is what you meant?”

“Of course.”

“But how?” Nick complained, aware that his voice had gone petulant, but unable to stop it. His life had been all planned out, and now his aunt had thrown the mother of all monkey wrenches into it. “How do you make any money off this if it’s such a fucking secret? Do you get a bounty for killing wolves?”

“Blutbaden,” she murmured. “Not specifically for killing creatures, but there are ways to turn what we do into a way to get money. I was careful to kill them only when they were turned, so the wolf skin had value. You learn tricks like that.”

Remembering the shed that had featured in so many of his childhood nightmares, Nick felt his gorge rise and he swallowed desperately, breathing through his nose in an effort to settle his stomach.

“I don’t think I care for those tricks,” he muttered when he got himself under control.

“You can’t let your tender heart rule you, or distract you from what must be done,” she said impatiently.

Not able to look at her and her clinical detachment about the horror of her job, Nick turned away to stare at the dark lines of the peaks. He shuddered, hoping that he never turned as callous as she was.

“I’ll make dinner,” she said, breaking the awkward silence. 

Grateful that she had changed the subject, Nick offered, “Let me help.”

“Pish,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Pull the casserole out of the fridge if you insist on doing something. It needs to bake for a half hour.”

The small tasks of pulling the dish out, heating the oven, and setting the timer calmed Nick’s ragged nerves. Aunt Marie took a seat on the couch, wrapping an afghan around her shoulders and picking up a book. The silence gradually turned from awkward to comfortable and Nick remembered why he loved her so much.

Dinner seemed almost normal as they sat in familiar places around the table. As long as Nick didn’t look at Marie’s bare scalp or the ancient book still sitting on the counter, he could pretend that this was like any other time they’d met since he had been out on his own, living his life.

“How are things in the city?” she asked.

“Good, really good,” Nick replied. “I made detective last month.” 

He took a deep breath. Now or never. “Juliette and I have been talking about moving in together.”

She froze, the stern line of her spine turning to steel. “I hadn’t realized it was so serious.”

Trying for casual, Nick said, “Well, a relationship gets to a certain point and you have to move forward. It’s a natural progression.”

Aware that he was justifying something that should be perfectly natural, Nick stopped talking about it. Marie might disapprove, but she would have to deal with it. Whatever weird heritage he might have, Nick had no plans to lead the isolated life that Marie had chosen.

“You can’t do that,” she said.

“Why not?”

“To be a Grimm is to be alone,” Aunt Marie insisted. “You cannot continue with that girl. It would be unfair to both of you.”

“What about my parents?”

“They were both Grimm. And look where it got them.”

“How do we continue the line, then, if we can’t have marriages and partners?”

“Knock her up if you must, be then break it off with her. It’s for the best.”

“That’s pretty clinical,” Nick observed. 

Aunt Marie shrugged. “We survive, and do what we must. Let her go.”

With a weary headshake, unwilling to let his aunt know the depth of his ambiguous feelings about Juliette, he replied, “I’ll think about it.”

“If you don’t do it of your own will, then circumstances will intervene and force your hand,” she replied. “That usually doesn’t end well.”

He cleared the table silently and put on another kettle for her. They had so many things lying between them that Nick couldn’t choose where to start. He hoped he could persuade her to leave her hideout in the mountains and go someplace where she could get proper care. He refused to believe that this was the end – if her life had been full of violence like she insinuated, she could hardly let a disease take her down.

“I’m going to bed,” Aunt Marie said, breaking the long silence.

“Good night,” Nick replied, thinking that he should probably do the same, but he was too restless to settle. 

He stared at his bed in the loft for a long time, wishing Maura were there, but acknowledging that she was no doubt long dead after all the years that had passed. He turned away and went back downstairs.

His mind whirling from his aunt’s revelations, both of her sickness and their family legacy, Nick stepped onto the porch and sat down on the steps. He dropped his head in his hands, feeling ill. Aunt Marie had been the only family he’d had for years and now he faced losing her. In addition, he had some sort of sacred duty not only to police the human world, but the supernatural world as well. A world he hadn’t been aware existed until that very evening.

Leaning back on the top step on his elbows, Nick realized that he’d at least known that there was some truth to ancient stories – witness his encounter with the Dragotsennost’olen on that incredible, unforgettable night when Maura led him into her wild dance. But the idea that he would be in charge of slaughtering creatures from those stories didn’t sit well with him. He hadn’t asked to have some family legacy thrust upon him, and in any case, what Aunt Marie described conflicted with his training as a police officer. He was supposed to ‘protect and serve.’ As far as he knew, that applied to everyone, not just the ones who fit into some pre-conceived notion of what could be called ‘natural’. 

Getting to his feet, Nick knew that he would never sleep with the restless thoughts churning through his mind. Remembering Marie’s old prohibition against walking outside at night, he eyed the forest, but memories of running wild through the trees and slumbering under the stars convinced him that it wouldn’t hurt to take a stroll through the trees. He would keep to the margins of the forest and not risk getting lost since it had been a long time that he last ran with a wolf.

The day’s heat had given way to the chill of the mountain night, but Nick judged he was dressed warmly enough, as long as he didn’t get wet. The moon was up, but not nearly full enough to cast light on the terrain without a clear track for him to follow. 

Deciding that the creek offered the easiest path as well as the clearest landmark in the dark, Nick angled his path to pick up the watercourse just where the dirt track crossed it. The moonlight reflected on the trickling water, giving Nick enough light to navigate from stone to stone so he could keep his feet dry.

This high into the mountains, the creek kept mostly on a straight course, but a small flank of the mountain rose up to his left and the stream shifted over with it, leaving a patch of the bank clear of vegetation and covered with pebbles. Nick stopped there, looking around to get his bearings. He had once roamed every inch of the small valley where Marie built her cabin, but he feared that landmarks had changed too much in the intervening years.

As best he could tell though, he was too far from the place where Eddie kept his den. Grief swelled his chest as he considered the friend that had probably already been lost, either to time or to Aunt Marie’s killing sprees.

Debating whether he wanted to find the den and know for sure that Eddie was dead, or whether he would be just as happy never knowing his friend’s final fate, Nick crouched down, watching the moonlight caught in the purling ripples of water. As he immersed himself in the beauty of the night, Nick felt a subtle change in the air pressure around him, not a sound or anything like that, but both cop and Grimm instincts went on alert.

Turning around, Nick found himself sharing the small beach with an enormous wolf. The animal regarded him steadily, and while part of Nick knew he should be seriously flipping out, because wolves as a whole were dangerous, in this case, something about the night, the moonlight, and the situation evoked memories from long ago.

“Hey, buddy.”

Part of him had no clue why he would be trying to strike up a conversation with a freaking _wolf_ , Nick was riding on instincts at that moment, and they were telling him that the beast wouldn’t hurt him. He wished it were broad daylight so he could check to see if the animal had unusual green-gold eyes.

The wolf moved closer, invading Nick’s personal space until the only thing he could see was what seemed liked acres of shaggy grey-brown fur. The wolf tipped his muzzle in the air as he scented Nick. The cop held still, waiting for the animal to complete his investigation. Finally satisfied, the wolf snorted in Nick’s ear, blowing his hair out of place.

Tentatively, Nick reached up and put his hand in the wolf’s ruff. The animal didn’t object, merely watched him calmly.

“Eddie?”

The wolf licked his face in agreement, and Nick didn’t bother wrinkling his nose as the slimy tongue swiped over his cheek. Instead, he got to his knees and wrapped his arms around the wolf’s shoulders. 

“I missed you,” Nick said, feeling a little shaky. When he left the mountains, he never expected that he would ever see his wolf friend again. 

Nuzzling Nick’s cheek, Eddie seemed to be trying to reassure him. Nick let him go and sat back. The wolf was much larger than the one he remembered from his childhood. He wasn’t awkward anymore, but instead had long powerful legs, and a deep chest. His coat was thick and gleamed with good health. Clearly the wolf was at the peak of his maturity, but there was nothing of decrepit old age in his manner. Nick tried to calculate how old Eddie must be in dog years and then gave it up. Wolves must mature at a different rate from dogs, despite their close family relationship, Nick decided.

Laughing with the sheer joy of finding his friend again, Nick bounced up. “Where to?”

The wolf shook himself and then trotted into the forest. Nick followed, willing to go wherever Eddie led him. With adult eyes, he was able to keep track of their progress, realizing that the wolf was leading him in a big circle around the cabin. As the stars twinkled overhead, Eddie slowed his pace. Nick walked beside him, hand in the thick fur at the back of his neck, feeling contented and peaceful in a way that he hadn’t for far too long. Eddie made no demands on him, merely offering company and warmth.

They walked into the clearing and Nick leaned against the big boulder where once long ago the magical deer had struck jewels from his hooves. Not willing to give up the beauty of the night for the closeness of the cabin, Nick ran his fingers through Eddie’s fur over and over again, an unconscious caress that the wolf leaned into, a solid and welcome weight against Nick’s legs.

“I guess I should go in,” Nick said finally. “Aunt Marie is pretty badly off. It’s my turn to take care of her.”

Eddie butted his hand in agreement.

“I’ll get away when I can,” Nick assured him. “I’m so glad to see you after all this time.”

The wolf seemed to be laughing at him, but Nick knelt and wrapped his arms around the sturdy withers in a familiar move, and then letting the wolf go, he hurried into the cabin.

He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

∼∴∼

In the morning, Nick woke up to a silent cabin. Peeking in on his aunt, he found her still asleep, so he went to the kitchen to get the coffee on and work on breakfast. She came out of her room just as he was flipping the Western omelet over. Her face looked pinched as though she was in pain, and Nick resolved to examine her medications to see what could be done about that. He should probably talk to her doctor, too, he decided.

“Morning,” was all he said though, trying to be cheerful.

“Yes,” she replied, sitting at the table and pouring a cup of coffee. She gripped the mug as though it could warm her.

Nick set out glasses full of grapefruit juice and then plated the omelet halves.

“What do you need me to do for you today?” he asked.

She didn’t say anything for a long time, staring off into the distance. Finally, she said, “I saw you last night.”

Trying for casual, but somehow feeling like a child caught wrong, Nick merely said, “I went for a walk. I had a lot on my mind.”

“With that _beast_.”

“The wolf?” He wouldn’t tell her that he’d given the animal a name a long time ago. 

“Yes,” she growled.

“He’s a friend of mine. From when I was a child.” He refused to let her ruin something so important to him.

“Your so-called _friend_ is a Blutbad. A werewolf. Not a wild animal but a murderous creature. Unnatural and cursed.”

Struggling to come to terms with his aunt’s claim, Nick didn’t know what to say. Searching his memories, he wondered if he had always known that there was something off about Eddie, some way he could have known that the wolf was something other than natural. But he had been too young and too naïve at the time to see the wolf as anything other than the companion that he desperately needed at the time.

“He’s not a murderer,” Nick protested. 

“You have no way to know that,” Aunt Marie answered.

Certainty shifted and Nick felt like he was on sand and the tide was pulling him out. He had been gone a long time. Who knew what Eddie had done in the interim? But there was only one way to find the truth of that.

“I’ll ask him,” Nick said. “I’ll ask him about everything.”

“He’ll lie.”

“No. He won’t. He’ll tell me the truth.”

“You can’t trust the Wesen,” Marie insisted. “Any of them. They don’t have the same standards that we do.”

“I said I’d talk to him. That’s all.” Nick sighed, scrubbing his hand through his hair. “Let me make you some tea. Help you relax.”

Conceding defeat for the moment, Marie allowed him to change the subject. Nick put the kettle on and then helped her plump the pillows, arranging them under her back. He could feel the frail brittleness of her bones and the loss of muscle from her frame. He wondered how long she had been suffering before she broke down and called him.

Getting a novel down from one of the bookshelves, Nick tried to lose himself in another world, but Marie’s claim about Eddie wouldn’t leave him. Glancing over at the couch, he discovered that his aunt was dozing peacefully. 

Hesitating for a moment, Nick finally pulled on a sweatshirt and eased out the front door. Standing on the front porch, he inhaled the clean mountain air a few times, letting his lungs fill. The summer sunlight sparkled on the meadow grasses and flowers, drawing him forward into the wild.

Just past the first margin of the trees, Nick stopped and said, “Eddie,” in a low voice, feeling slightly ridiculous in his belief that the wolf might hear him and magically appear. But some part of him knew that if he called, Eddie would always answer.

The forest was darker than he remembered from the days of his childhood, with the trees in full leaf and the sunlight dim in the forest floor. A shadow detached itself from the base of a boulder and moved through the shade to reveal the great wolf.

Nick crouched, putting them eye-to-eye, while Eddie draped his head on Nick’s shoulder.

“Listen, Eddie,” Nick said, pulling back and staring into the creature’s eyes. “My aunt said you aren’t a full wolf. She said you’re a werewolf. Crazy right?”

Something flickered and died in the wolf’s green-gold eyes, something that Nick might have classified as hurt in a human. He kept his hands in his favorite position, buried in Eddie’s ruff. Shaking his fur out, the wolf stood up, but then dropped his shoulder down and gave a short yip.

“What?”

The wolf flexed his shoulders and then yipped again.

“It’s not the full moon,” Nick grumbled. “If you have something to say, why don’t you just change and tell me?”

And right there, he realized that he didn’t doubt that there was something a little off about Eddie, and he had probably always known it.

The wolf growled, but as Nick watched his snout shortened and his ears shrank. He could clearly see the face of a man within the form of the wolf. Fascinated, Nick observed the sharp canines shrinking into something much more human.

“Get on my back,” the half-man, half-wolf creature said, his voice a barely understandable snarl.

The man disappeared again, leaving only the wolf. 

Moving slowly because he still wasn’t sure it was a good idea, Nick clambered onto the wolf’s back. Despite his unnatural size, the animal wasn’t anywhere comfortable to ride, his spine sharp and digging uncomfortably into Nick’s groin. The wolf might be the size of a small pony but he wasn’t built the same as a horse at all.

The wolf eased into a long-legged lope with Nick clinging to his fur. Eddie never broke into full speed, perhaps in consideration of his passenger, or perhaps Nick was heavy enough to slow him down. The animal seemed considerate of branches whipping in Nick’s face, going around the underbrush instead of through it, as he no doubt would have normally.

  


Ducking his face down just in case Eddie miscalculated his distance from the branches, Nick inhaled the scent of the wolf, the sense memory sending a flood of happiness through him as he recalled all the times he’d snuggled up against the animal to assuage his loneliness. And the wolf had let him, had never snapped at him, never even showed his teeth. Marveling at it years after the fact, Nick realized that after that first night, he’d never felt any fear around Eddie. Surely that had to mean something, no matter what Aunt Marie said about the murderous instincts of the Blutbad.

They halted finally in front of a small hut built into the side of the hill, barely distinguishable amongst the greenery with its sod roof and rough boarded sides. Eddie waited while Nick slid off his shoulder and then shook himself. Watching in disbelief, Nick saw the wolf seem to melt away into a tall, lean man with curly brown hair and green-gold eyes. He wasn’t bulky, but his muscles were defined and his skin was a golden brown. On the whole, he made quite an attractive picture, and Nick felt his mouth go dry.

“It’s true. Aunt Marie was right.”

The man stuck his hand out for Nick to shake. “Monroe.”

  


“Uh. Hello, Monroe,” Nick responded, feeling slightly dazed. “Nick Burkhardt. But you already know that.”

“We’ve never been formally introduced,” the wolf replied. “Did I know your last name?”

He stared intently into the distance, and Nick gathered that the question was rhetorical. He tried not to stare at Monroe, but it was difficult finding somewhere safe to put his eyes. The man was really big and really naked, and didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by it. Nick supposed that being an animal part of the time might remove one’s inhibitions about nudity among casual acquaintances. 

“Is Monroe your last name or your first name?”

“Uh, neither, actually. Although legally I got Eddie added to it.”

“You did?”

Grinning at him, Monroe said, “Yeah. I liked it. But on the subject of names, Blutbaden take them just to fit in with the humans. They aren’t part of our identity the way yours are.”

“How do you know who’s who then?”

“Smell mostly,” Monroe replied. “Scent can tell us everything about the other person . . . who his parents are, what he had for dinner, what he does for a living. It’s a complicated bouquet, but it’s like having a person’s resume in your nose.”

“If you say so,” Nick said dubiously. He supposed he was too much a child of the human system, where everything had to be ordered and classified.

“Let’s go inside. We clearly have some things to talk about. I’ll make tea.”

He turned and strode to the stone steps that led to the heavy door, still apparently unconcerned about his nude state.

Following Monroe into the small dwelling, Nick found himself in a very cozy one-room hut. On one side stood what appeared to be a daybed covered in pillows and piled with blankets. The other side of the room contained a pot-bellied stove and a rough wooden bench laden with cooking implements and jars of various preserves. Nicked wondered where the bathroom was, but didn’t ask.

While Monroe filled a teakettle and then put it on the stove, Nick stared at the small patch of hair at the base of Monroe’s spine, wondering what he would smell like there, what his skin would taste like. Monroe turned around with his nostrils flaring as he scented the air.

“That’s a good sign,” the wolf said with a smile. “But not yet.”

“Don’t you think you should put some clothes on?”

“Why?” Monroe said, stretching his arm over his head. “Naked is our natural state.”

Humming happily, he arched his back. The move brought the muscles of his torso into play and Nick found his mouth flooded with saliva, and his body flooded with heat. The interest that had been brewing since Eddie changed shape morphed into searing want of the sort that Nick couldn’t ever recall feeling before.

He growled, “You’re distracting.”

Monroe’s eyes opened wide and Nick thought he could see a flare of red in their depths. The Blutbad shook himself. “Maybe you’ve got a point. There’s teasing and then there’s that. If you keep that up, I’ll lose every shred of control.”

Although the idea of this werewolf losing control and ravishing him was distinctly appealing, Nick was still uncertain about some aspects of this new discovery. Deciding to let Monroe lead the way, he dragged his eyes to a more neutral target even as Monroe bent over a chest and pulled out some clothes.

Staring at the paneled walls of the small dwelling, Nick asked, “What does losing control entail?”

“Not eating you, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” Monroe said as he tugged a Henley over his head. “Well, maybe just a nibble.”

As uncontrollable heat spread over Nick’s body at the wolf’s words, Monroe leered at him, giving an ostentatious sniff even as he was pulling his pants on. Nick mentally grumbled over having a lover who could seemingly read his mind from his scent, and then brought his thoughts to a screeching halt as he stumbled over the concept of _lover_ in his mind. He wasn’t bothered by Monroe being male, as Nick had never been picky about the gender of his partners. He’d only just discovered the wolf’s true identity so wanting to sleep with him seemed a bit soon in Nick’s mind.

“Aunt Marie says I’m something called a Grimm.”

“Yeah.” 

Monroe didn’t say anything else, busying himself with pouring water over the tea strainer and then a few moments later, pouring the tea into mugs. The aroma of flowers filled the small room and Nick inhaled deeply, letting the peaceful scent soothe him.

“Let’s sit,” Monroe said, draping his lanky body on the daybed. “Sorry for the lack of chairs.”

Shifting a few pillows out of the way to find some room, Nick settled beside him. Taking a sip of the tea, he was delighted by the delicate flavor and soothing aroma.

“What is this?” he asked. “It’s great.”

With a quirk of his eyebrow, Monroe answered, “Something I put together. Lemon balm, roses, papaya leaf, a few other things. It’s relaxing.”

“No kidding,” Nick said. “This is perfect.”

Monroe smiled at him. “I know you’re dealing with a heap of trouble. It’s the least I could do.”

A ridiculous sort of warmth bloomed inside Nick at the idea that Monroe was trying to take care of him.

“Thanks. You’re a good friend.”

Because Nick refused to believe that even with the years separating them, this new sexual attraction, and Marie’s insistence that he had to slaughter creatures like Monroe, that they were anything less than friends. They had a bond forged those few months of his childhood and Nick wouldn’t let present circumstances ruin that.

“Yeah,” Monroe agreed. “What do you want to know? I don’t have any idea about some of the obscure Grimm stuff because we’re raised to believe that your kind is the monster under the bed. My mother used to threaten me with Marie Kesseler when I was a pup.”

“She did?” 

Wrestling with the idea that the monsters were afraid of his aunt, Nick pondered what to ask first.

Going with his police training and starting with the obvious before working up to the hard stuff, Nick said, “So you can change shape.”

Giving him a dubious look, but apparently willing to play along, Monroe said, “Yes, as you can see. Just me or the wolf though, not anything else.”

“So you _are_ a werewolf then.”

Monroe squirmed, looking uncomfortable and disdainful at the same time. “Technically, yes, but I really hate that label. It smacks of so much teenaged melodrama and histrionics.”

Grinning at him, Nick decided that he sort of loved being able to tease the Big Bad Wolf. “Full moon a problem for you?”

Rolling his eyes, Monroe replied, “You’ve seen me. The moon has nothing to do with it.”

“So who bit you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You have to be bitten to turn into a wolf, right?” Nick asked.

“I thought you were meant to know at least the basics,” Monroe growled. “Blutbaden are born, not made. Just like every other creature.”

“Good to know. So . . . silver?”

“Shut up,” the wolf grumbled. “You know better than that.”

“Belly scratches?”

The look Monroe gave him sent chills skittering up Nick’s spine and not solely from fear either. Deciding that showing a little prudence in the presence of a deadly creature that also seemed to trip every one of his erotic buttons was the wiser course, Nick refused to return the look, staring down at the mug in his hands instead. Unfortunately, his own words had conjured up a vision that he had no trouble imagining, not with his knowledge of both Monroe’s human form and Eddie’s wolf shape. And how weird was he that he couldn’t find it in him to be creeped out by the idea of being with the wolf?

Monroe’s nostrils flared and Nick blushed, aware that his thoughts weren’t entirely a secret around the wolf’s sensitive nose.

“Can you smell other emotions?” he asked, his curiosity getting the better of his embarrassment.

Accepting the change of subject without comment, Monroe nodded. “The stronger the emotion, the more of a mark it leaves on the scent. Fear is the strongest of all, of course, but lust isn’t far behind. Sadness, too.”

“Sadness?”

“Unshed tears back up in your tear ducts. You smell of salt.”

If Eddie, the wolf, had still been present, Nick would have buried his face in the wolf’s fur and let his tears fall. The wolf had always been an accepting friend, but Nick couldn’t quite yet reconcile the animal that he had loved with this tall and attractive man that he wanted to know better. The rational part of his mind pointed out that Monroe _was_ Eddie and therefore already knew all his secrets, but the rest of him wasn’t quite ready to let go entirely, not until he had a better grasp of where he stood with Monroe.

He didn’t want to go into all the issues with his aunt. He was tired of thinking about it, both what she told him about how his life was going to go, and with the idea of her dying.

“Why did you come that night?” Nick asked, taking a sip of his tea, and tried not to let the whole situation weird him out too much. Instead of a romp through the woods with the wolf, he found himself sipping tea with a man who was far too attractive for his peace of mind.

With a laugh, Monroe said, “I touched the butt.”

“What? What butt?” Nick couldn’t keep the bewilderment out of his voice and he wondered if being part wolf had an adverse affect on Monroe’s sanity.

“Finding Nemo? Best animated movie ever? Pop culture? Anything?”

Nick shook his head. “Aunt Marie was never much for movies, especially not kids movies.”

“Ah, okay. Well, let’s just say, it was like spending the night in the haunted house. You and your buddies talk about it and joke about it, and dare each other to do it, but no one actually means it.”

“Oh, yeah, I get that.”

“I suppose I should be thankful for even the smallest of blessings.”

With a playful glare, Nick said, “Get on with it, and try to keep it simple for the pop culturally challenged among us.”

“All the Blutbaden in Oregon knew that Marie Kessler lived up here. We always talked about daring to get near her cabin and risk her sword. We bragged and boasted, but it was just a way of dealing with the boogie man.”

“I see.”

Part of him was horrified with the remembrance of all the skins in Marie’s shed. He wondered how many Blutbaden had taken the dare and fallen afoul of his aunt. What Monroe was describing sounded like perfectly normal behavior for children learning the limits of their world. How different could Blutbaden be from normal humans then?

“You took the dare,” Nick continued, pressing Monroe to continue the story.

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“Occupational hazard.” At Monroe’s inquiring look, Nick said, “Back in San Francisco, I’m a police officer. Just made detective, so asking questions is what I do.”

“I see.”

“So? The dare?”

With a snort Monroe said, “Yeah, but instead of discovering a fearsome Grimm, all I found was Silvershod and a little lost boy. Imagine my chagrin.”

“Silvershod?”

“The stag with the penchant for creating fancy jewels.”

“I didn’t know he had a name. Aunt Marie called him something else that I can’t remember right now.”

“Yeah, lots of people would like to get their hands on that deer, I’d imagine,” Monroe said. “He’s had lots of practice dodging them.”

“She said they were rarer than unicorns.”

“True enough. Except there’s only one of him, as far as I know.”

“Huh.” Nick found himself distracted by Maura and the deer that she seemed to have lured to her. He wondered what all those hunters would do if they knew the cat was Silvershod’s weakness.

“That’s beside the point anyway,” Monroe continued. “You came here to talk about my species, not his.”

“You took a hell of a chance,” Nick said. “You could have . . .”

He couldn’t finish the sentence, the horror of imagining finding Eddie’s skin in the tanning shed almost more than he could cope with.

Pushing away his distress, he looked up to find Monroe staring at him.

“You’re not what I expected,” the Blutbad said after a moment.

“Yeah? Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Marie Kessler is the most feared Grimm of her generation. I thought . . . I didn’t think you’d be . . .”

“What?” Nick said, unable to resist contact with Monroe any longer. He felt like invisible threads were pulling him closer to the other man and he hungered for any touch from him, no matter how innocent. He put his mug down and squirmed through the pillows until he came up against the solid line of Monroe’s body.

“I thought you’d change. You wouldn’t be that same person you were when you were twelve.”

“I’ve changed,” Nick asserted, mildly insulted that Monroe thought he was still acting like a child.

Slinging his arm around Nick’s waist, Monroe tucked him against his side, and Nick settled into place like he’d always been there, unable to stop the contented sigh that fell from his lips.

“Don’t be silly,” Monroe continued. “Of course you’re all grown up now, and believe me, I do appreciate that. But . . . you were raised by a Grimm. I thought you would have lost that tender heart of yours. And your open mind.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“You could have turned into the implacable killer that she is. But I don’t see that happening.”

“Did you know I was her nephew back then?”

“Yeah, family relationships are always obvious by scent. Not that I ever got close enough to her to smell her. I wouldn’t be sitting here now. But the scent was all over her territory.”

“You had the perfect opportunity to cut off the next generation of Grimm. You know . . . killing me.”

“I thought about it. Your aunt killed my grandfather. Lots of my family would have loved the chance.”

“Why didn’t you?” Nick asked.

Monroe looked out the window, seeming to study the trees. “Maura vouched for you. And then . . . I thought that maybe you didn’t deserve to pay for the sins of the previous generation.”

“Neither do you,” Nick said.

A frown crossed Monroe’s face. “I’ve done plenty of sinning on my own.”

Wondering if Marie had been correct in her assessment that Monroe was a murderer, Nick nevertheless decided he’d rather hear it directly from his friend rather than jump to conclusions.

“Tell me.”

“Is that your cop schtick?” Monroe asked, bitter amusement heavy in his tone.

“I know you’re a Blutbad, and I know what Marie has told me about them. But you’re also my friend, and I refuse to believe that’s changed after all this time.”

With a skeptical look, Monroe released Nick and sprawled prone on the daybed. Nick immediately scooted over until he was pressed against Monroe’s larger body. He couldn’t have said what urges drove him to keep in contact with the werewolf, but the need to be close to him was undeniable. For his part, Monroe shifted his body until Nick was curled comfortably against him.

“This is crazy,” Monroe muttered.

“What is?”

“My inner beast really likes you.”

Smiling happily, Nick said, “That’s good. I like him too.”

Monroe sighed. “You may not when I get done.”

“Stop stalling.”

“Fine. Listen . . . when we met . . . the change into a wolf takes different people different ways. I was a little bit . . . stuck.”

“Stuck as a wolf?”

“Yeah. Blutbaden have several phases of changes that we go through. The wolf form is the first one. Some people can move effortlessly between human and wolf on the first try. For others, it takes more practice. That was me.”

“But you got unstuck eventually,” Nick prompted, aware that he was using witness techniques on Monroe, but unable to help himself. The man clearly wanted to talk, but whatever he had to say wasn’t easy.

“Yeah. The next phase is the blood lust. It usually comes on us a few years after the first change. All this stuff is a really confusing experience, even with family around to help you through it.”

“I can imagine,” Nick murmured. “How old were you when we met?”

“Fifteen,” Monroe replied. “After you left, I finally managed to make the transition without much trouble. I hadn’t really been trying that hard while you were here, because I wanted to be friends with you. I thought it would be easier as a wolf.”

Nick snorted and rubbed his face against Monroe’s arm. “That’s teenager logic for you. I would have loved to have someone to talk to.”

“Boy or wolf,” Monroe said. “I wasn’t in control at the time. You could have accepted one or the other, but I doubt you would have handled a friend who was both.”

“We’ll never know,” Nick said. “But I’m glad to know the truth now.”

“Truth. Yeah. Anyway, blood lust. Blutbaden are set off by blood and the color red. And prey behavior.”

“Good to know.”

Monroe shivered and tension pervaded his frame. Nick didn’t know what else to do to reassure him that he would listen, aside from crawling all the way on top of him. While that option was extremely attractive, Nick didn’t think it would help at the moment.

“The first time blood lust hits you, it’s even worse than the change, more confusing, more intense. I was a senior in high school. My parents had moved us to Chicago by then.”

Nick was curious about Monroe’s family and where they were at the moment, but he didn’t want to interrupt and sidetrack what seemed to be an important story. Instead he made a noise to indicate he was still listening.

“Lots of Blutbaden do it – move to the city when their pups are on the verge of maturing. Country folk tend to have guns and no qualms about using them. It’s safer in the cities where there’s so many people.”

Dawning comprehension of what Monroe was trying to say made Nick want to pull away, but he forced himself to relax and to give his friend his attention. He’d promised Monroe that he would listen and he had no intention of breaking his word, no matter how horrifying the story turned out to be.

“Safer for what?” Nick asked carefully.

“The blood lust. Look, I can’t evade what I am . . . the big bad wolf. It came on me when I was seventeen. There was a girl . . . she ran away. She was wearing red jeans. I did what comes naturally.”

“You mean . . . ?”

“Yeah, I killed her. No getting around it or making it pretty. That’s what I did.”

The rational, responsible part of Nick knew he should get the hell away from the dangerous predator, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t in any danger from the Blutbad. And he was convinced that Monroe somehow had paid a heavy price of his adolescent irresponsibility.

“What else?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” Monroe snarled, anger coloring his tone. “What else is there? I murdered an innocent girl. End of story.”

Certain that he was right, Nick sat up slightly and slid his hand over Monroe’s jaw, rubbing the skin under his lip where he could feel the sharp teeth. Monroe closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.

“No, it’s not,” Nick asserted. “Tell me the rest.”

Monroe’s big hand closed over his, long fingers engulfing Nick’s smaller hand. The Blutbad had odd calluses on his fingers that made Nick want to nibble on them, but he pushed the idea away, not wanting Monroe to get distracted by the scent of his arousal. Monroe dipped his head and lapped at Nick’s palm, a move that didn’t do anything to quell Nick’s desire and made him embarrassingly sure that Monroe could tell exactly how he was affected.

  


“I felt guilty almost immediately,” Monroe continued. “Which isn’t the natural reaction of most Blutbaden, I can assure you. My parents were proud, but I was horrified. I remembered you and how much I enjoyed those months. I couldn’t imagine trying to face you again with all the blood on my hands.”

“What did you do?” he asked, because it was clear that Monroe did _something_. Nick still wasn’t getting any danger vibes from the other man, and he would like to think, that despite childhood friendship, he was enough of a cop to sense when his friend was about to rip his throat out.

“Went to college and rebelled against my parents’ teachings, just like everyone else.”

Nick laughed. “Okay, explain.”

“I chose a different path,” Monroe said. “There’s a faction of Blutbaden who choose to be Wieder Blutbaden. It means we control our urges to kill. It means we give up everything that relates to our pack and we walk alone.”

“Monroe.” The urge to climb onto Monroe and comfort him with his body and kisses was nearly unbearable, but it didn’t have much to do with arousal at that moment.

“Don’t. I chose this.” But his fingers plucked at Nick’s hand and he turned it over to give Monroe free access. “Maybe you had something to do with it. Maybe I had always hoped that you’d see something worthy in me when we met again. But it’s my life and I’m happy with what I have.”

“Speaking of meeting again,” Nick said. “This place seems more like a temporary hunting camp rather than some place you actually live.”

“Ah, so you’re good at your job then,” Monroe chuckled. “I actually live in Portland.”

“What do you do?” 

“I’m a clock maker, but I take in repairs too, just to help pay the bills.”

Turning their clasped hands over, Nick stared at Monroe’s long fingers, slender and strong, and he could easily imagine them doing the delicate manipulations necessary to work on clocks.

“It’s a hell of coincidence, you taking a vacation to the mountains just when my aunt called me back.”

“Word travels fast in the creature world. Rumor went around that Marie Kessler was dying. I knew you’d come back.”

“I’m surprised the forest isn’t alive with creatures wanting one last shot at a weakened Grimm.”

“Eh, well. I pissed all over the place.”

“You what?”

“Marked my territory. It won’t keep the most determined ones away, but it will help the casual ones.”

Giggling hysterically, Nick fell against the bigger man. “My life is so weird.”

“This is serious,” Monroe said. “She should have kept you close to her and taught you the things you need to know to be a Grimm. You’re vulnerable.”

“I’m not the one dying,” he argued, slightly shocked that he could discuss the loss of his aunt without having a complete meltdown. 

With a sigh, Monroe tightened his arms. “Your powers aren’t coming to you all at once, and you have no idea what to do with them. You’re the poster child for easy meat.”

“What do I do?”

“You can cover up your Grimm scent with wolfs bane, but that will only hide you from other Blutbaden.”

“And the other creatures?”

“You have a sort of glow about you,” Monroe said. “A type of aura, one might say. It’s faint right now, but as your aunt slips further it will grow stronger.”

“Aunt Marie said that Grimm have special abilities, though. Right?”

Shaking his head, Monroe said, “Yeah, but not until the Grimm before them in line dies. You’re getting yours too slowly to be any help. We can see your nature, but you don’t have the strength to fight.”

“I’m not helpless,” Nick protested, although he wished he had his police issue weapon with him.

“I have a suggestion,” Monroe said, something about his tone suggesting that Nick might not like whatever it was.

“Go on.”

“I can do something that will confuse them. Not hide you exactly, but make anything that thinks about attacking you hesitate.”

“What?”

“Bite you.”

Although Nick would have enjoyed Monroe biting him in other contexts, he was pretty sure that’s not what the man meant in this case. “Care to explain? Won’t that turn me into a werewolf?”

Monroe sniffed, his whole face showing outrage. “I’ve already told you that Blutbaden are born, not made. Silly ignorant superstitions. I totally blame Lon Chaney.”

“Okay, sorry.”

“If you take it willingly, it will leave a signal that other creatures can see. The disconnect between your Grimm aura and the Blutbad mark will make them think twice about attacking you.”

“I’ll be safe.”

“Safer. They’ll still attack once they get over the shock.”

“Not much of an edge,” Nick commented.

Monroe shrugged. “Best I can do under the circumstances.”

Nick pondered the issue. Not that he was afraid to let Monroe bite him exactly, because he did trust the wolf and not even the years since they had last seen each other could convince him any differently. While his life seemed to have turned into some warped fairy tale when he wasn’t looking, Nick had read enough of the stories to know that even the most innocuous act always has consequences.

In the end though, he needed help and he trusted Monroe to be on his side.

“Okay. Do it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I trust you. And Eddie.”

Shaking his head, Monroe nevertheless rearranged them until Nick was on his side, facing out into the tiny hut with Monroe curled around his back. The other man draped a heavy arm over Nick’s waist and tangled their legs together. The position made Nick regret that Monroe had gotten dressed and sent his mind off into delightful tangents.

“Geez, you have the most hair trigger arousal of anyone I’ve ever met,” Monroe grumbled.

Nick flushed, annoyed that his scent had given him away again. “All your fault,” he mumbled.

“Okay, just focus, can you do that?”

“Yeah.”

“I need to change partially. My human teeth aren’t sharp enough.”

Although the thought of having his back to a dangerous predator was mildly worrying, Nick repeated, “I trust you, and your wolf.”

“How is this my life?” Monroe muttered.

The body behind Nick altered, becoming more compact, the chest deepening and muzzle lengthening. The arm around Nick’s waist grew a truly impressive thicket of hair while the fingernails elongated into claws. Nick knew that dog claws weren’t terribly sharp, but the talons at the end of Monroe’s hands looked like they could rip his guts out without much effort. But his hands remained mostly human and his arm held Nick tightly.

Nuzzling against his neck, Eddie snorted and Nick flinched, giggling. “That tickles,” he protested.

The wolf leaned over him, his weight pressing Nick down. He dragged his muzzle along Nick’s shoulder, lips peeling back to reveal a hint of fang. Not wanting to make a sudden move and spoil Monroe’s aim, Nick stilled. He felt no fear of the animal, but he was cautious about the potential for accidents.

At the juncture of his neck and shoulder, Eddie licked his skin and then in a move that was shocking in its suddenness, clamped his teeth down. Nick flinched the pain and tried to get away, but the wolf morphed partially back into Monroe and held him in place. A riot of sensation coursed through his body – pain as the sharp teeth finally pierced his skin mixed with a healthy dose of lust as he was held firmly against Monroe’s long body.

Outside, a gentle rain started, drumming on the roof of the hut. 

Nick stopped fighting against the pain, giving in and letting Eddie mark him. When the wolf was satisfied with the bite, he removed his teeth and cleaned the wound with his long tongue. Warmth spread through Nick as the pain receded and pleasure took the forefront.

His head spinning with the urge to surrender, Nick fought his instincts that wanted him to spread his legs and lift his ass in a plea to be fucked. His internal conflict manifested in a pathetic whimper as he tried to move with Monroe’s heavy body holding him down. The wolf rumbled something soothing as he continued the work of lapping up the blood.

Finally, Monroe’s human face nuzzled the back of his neck and Nick whined, body on high alert and needing more contact.

“I couldn’t help myself,” Monroe said, his voice raspy and wrecked. “Are you all right?”

Nick was dizzy and felt like he was high – out of control but mellow about it. 

“Yeah,” Nick said, squirming back against Monroe’s heavy body. “That was . . . really hot. I thought you said not yet.”

Breathing deeply, Monroe buried his face against Nick’s neck. “You’ve just now found out the truth about me.”

“I know. And I’m wildly attracted to the secret identity of my childhood best friend. Talk about your clichés.”

“I was your best friend?”

Nick turns his head away, feeling slightly embarrassed. “Yeah.”

“Aw, how cute is that? Lame, but cute.”

“Shut up.”

Resisting the urge to sink into Monroe’s embrace and never leave, Nick said, “I should go.”

“Yeah, let me take you back.”

Nick couldn’t decide if he was miffed or pleased that Monroe hadn’t argued about him taking off. The rain hadn’t let up when they exited the hut, and the whole forest was dripping.

“How long are you going to stay up here?”

“As long as you need me,” Monroe said, but then he dropped to all fours and instead of the man, Eddie took his place.

Nick didn’t argue about getting on the wolf’s back, and Eddie sprang into the forest, traveling quickly and easily back to the cabin. Nick tried to keep track of the path, but even then, he wasn’t sure he could find his way without a guide. Wet branches slapped at him, but he ducked low on Eddie’s back.

At the edge of the trees, Eddie stopped and Nick slid off his back. Gripping the wolf by the ruff, Nick stared into his eyes. “Take care.”

Walking into the cabin, he found Marie in an overstuffed chair, swathed in blankets and with a large book resting on her knee.

“You’ve been out for a while,” she said, her voice neutral.

Still feeling slightly dazed and out of it from Monroe’s bite and not wanting to get into another argument, Nick merely said, “Yeah. Nice day.”

Pulling off his over-shirt Nick hung it on a peg to dry, and then kicked his boots off before he could track mud further into the cabin. He moved into the kitchen and put a kettle on for pasta, something bland for her while he had a spicier sauce.

“Did you talk to your friend,” she asked, with a wealth of contempt in her voice on the final word.

“Yeah.”

“You’re still alive, so you must have done the right thing.”

“Right thing?” Nick asked, spinning around to stare at her.

“Rid the world of the monster.”

Trying desperately to remember why he loved her, Nick wondered if she had always been so obsessed and he just hadn’t noticed it with his childish self-absorption. His fingers ached from his grip on the wooden spoon and he forced himself to relax. Randomly, he wondered what Monroe would make of his scent now.

Turning back to the stove, he said, “We talked.”

“Talked. Nicholas Burkhardt! You don’t _talk_ to monsters; you exterminate them!”

“I don’t,” Nick said stiffly.

“You’ll learn,” she said darkly. “Or you’ll die.”

“No different from being a police officer then,” Nick said, trying and failing to make his voice light and teasing.

“Was he honest at all?” 

“Yes, he told me everything.”

With a snort, she said, “I doubt that.”

“I don’t. I trust him. He said he’s . . .” Nick tried to remember the word Monroe had used to describe his life. “Weider. A Weider Blutbaden.”

“I’ve heard of them,” she conceded. “But you’re dealing with an animal. They can’t control their instincts forever.”

“Perhaps,” Nick murmured, although he disagreed. There was a strength to Monroe that spoke of an iron will and a desire to be a good person.

Picking up the pasta pot, he poured the water out and then portioned it onto their plates. They fell silent while they ate, both of them busy with their meals. Marie kept her fork moving, although Nick noted with dismay that Marie’s portion was hardly any smaller than when she started. Worry tightened his gut, and he regretted their arguments. He didn’t know how to make it better without giving up an essential part of his personality – he couldn’t willfully slaughter anything or anyone without a good reason.

“I’m going to bed,” she announced, pushing her chair back and standing shakily. 

Nick wanted to help her, but something about her posture warned him off. Mentally doing the math in his head, he realized that she wasn’t actually as old as her sickness made her appear. Hatred poured through his veins then, for the real monster in that case – the disease that was killing her.

Keeping his focus on cleaning up the kitchen in order to avoid his churning thoughts, Nick hummed a little nonsense tune under his breath. Between that and the clanking of dishes as he washed up, he nearly missed the tiny sound.

Halting what he was doing, Nick froze, every sense on alert. Then he heard it again – a pathetic sounding whimper.

Darting into Aunt Marie’s bedroom, Nick found her curled up, her quivering body radiating agony. Her teeth clenched against the pain, and he was sure that the sounds coming from between her lips were entirely involuntary. Fear exploded through him.

“Let me take you to Klamath Falls. You need a hospital.”

“No,” Aunt Marie answered, her thin hands clutching the comforter tighter under her chin. “There’s nothing to be done.”

“How bad does it hurt?” Nick persisted, trying to remember the pain levels that EMTs always used.

“No worse than a Jägerbar clawing.”

Ignoring the reference to what was no doubt some supernatural creature that he would soon be in charge of slaughtering, Nick said, “They can give you morphine.”

“Do you think I want to go out of this life in a haze of drugs?” Shuddering in distaste, she fixed him with eyes that were weak and watery, yet still held traces of their former steel. “No Grimm should die in their bed. It’s shameful.”

“To have survived?” he asked incredulously. “To have lived a full life, like almost every other person on the planet?”

“We are Grimm. Normal standards do not apply to us.”

Afraid of receiving yet another lecture about how he couldn’t hope to lead a normal life due to his genetic heritage, Nick stood up. “Let me make some warm milk. Help the pills go down.”

“You can’t run from the truth,” she said quietly.

“You’re not dead yet,” was his only answer.

After watching her drift into sleep, Nick climbed the stairs to seek his own bed, but his mind was restless, thoughts swimming up into his consciousness and then drifting away again before he could corral them and deal with them – thoughts about Juliette, wondering what Monroe ate for dinner, whether his partner had solved the series of bookstore robberies. Random thoughts careened through his head that he couldn’t seem to grasp, but instead they tormented him because they wouldn’t leave him alone to rest. 

Staring up at the ceiling, Nick found himself visually tracing the cracks in the plaster, trying to get his eyes lost in the patterns and shut his brain off. Without thinking about it, he reached up to the place at the base of his neck, just where his shoulder broadened out. He couldn’t believe the bite was fully healed after just a few hours. Nick felt the raised ridges of scar tissue under his fingers, although the place ached as much as if it was fresh. Remembering Monroe, Nick pressed down on the place, moaning as the contact sent an unexpected bolt of lust zinging through his body, straight to his cock. Almost afraid to touch himself, as though his sleeping aunt would somehow know what he was doing, Nick slid his hand down his torso, where he found his prick responding to the contact.

Concentrating on the pleasures of his body and ignoring the turmoil in his mind, Nick worked to lose himself in his desire for Monroe.

Keeping steady pressure on the bite, he succeeded in tugging himself to full hardness. Closing his eyes, Nick imagined that Monroe was behind him, worrying at the bite, making it deeper and redder as he plunged into Nick’s willing body.

With a muffled cry, he spurted over his hand. A peaceful languor spread through Nick’s limbs, but he fought it back and shuffled into the en suite to do a hurried and lackadaisical clean up. 

Upon returning to the bedroom, he found his legs nearly too heavy to carry him, but he tucked himself under the blankets. Sleep ebbed around the edges of his mind while he drowsily contemplated how weird it was that he got off on the memory of getting the bite on his shoulder. The wolf had bitten him, but it was Monroe that Nick wanted to take him. Although he worried for a moment that he’d developed a particularly disturbing kink for the animal, the truth was the two of them were separate entities in Nick’s mind.

The orgasm had calmed his mind, but the sheer unadulterated _want_ that he felt the moment he had seen Monroe naked hadn’t abated in the slightest. Grumpily, Nick wondered when Monroe planned to act on what was clearly mutual interest. What could the wolf be waiting for?

Never stopping to consider how quickly he had gone from considering the wolf a friend, and nothing more, to a big, ruggedly handsome man that he couldn’t wait to have sex with, Nick silently berated Monroe for his caution.

The sun peaking through the cloud cover woke him early, and Nick tried to stay in bed, but the previous night’s restlessness hadn’t left him and he went downstairs to start some coffee. Part of him ached to run out into the morning and the let the dew soak his clothes, with the wolf racing beside him. The more practical and adult part of him knew better – he couldn’t leave without making sure Marie was all right. 

Creeping to the door of her bedroom, he eased it open to check on her. She appeared to be sleeping although her breathing was heavy and rasping. Resting his head on the warm pine of the doorframe, Nick silently and extensively cursed the cancer.

Back in the lounge, he cast about for something to do, his eyes finally lighting on the tome that Aunt Marie had been reading when he came in the previous evening. He picked up the old book and settled onto the couch with his coffee. 

He discovered that the book was mostly about Blutbaden, which made him blush, wondering if some Grimm in his ancestry had managed to catalog their mating habits. Nick flipped through the pages, discovering that a lot of them were in German, making him wonder if Aunt Marie spoke the language. He added the question to the increasingly long catalog of things that he needed to find out.

Pictures caught his eye here and there, and he tried to puzzle out the words from the context of the drawings. Nick paused, thinking hard. He had always had the urge to sketch things he saw, which had made him invaluable at crime scenes, but now he was forced to wonder if his abilities were part of his Grimm heritage. He couldn’t remember his aunt ever sketching, but perhaps that was yet another thing she had kept from him.

Marie woke sometime in mid-morning, but she seemed disinclined to talk to him. Nick was happy to avoid another argument, but he wished she would tell him more about his heritage.

Finally, after lunch, Nick said, “I’m going for a walk.”

She sniffed, but said nothing else, so he departed.

When he reached the edge of the forest, the wolf was waiting for him. Eddie sniffed him over carefully while Nick stood still, knowing that he had to allow it. Finally, the wolf crouched down and Nick clambered onto his back. He ducked his head into the ruff around Eddie’s neck to avoid getting his face lashed by the whipping branches.

As they finally reached Monroe’s small dwelling, Nick said, “I think I can find my way by myself now.”

He slid off Eddie’s back even as the wolf reared up, changing into the man. 

“The forest is dangerous,” Monroe murmured, his eyes hot and red as they landed on Nick. “What have you been doing?”

He stalked closer to Nick, a tall gangly man who moved with the grace of a hunter. Nick’s breath caught as he remembered his fantasy from the night before. Monroe backed him against the cabin wall and Nick instinctively turned his head to let the Blutbad have his neck. He couldn’t have said from where he found the certainty that Monroe wouldn’t tear his throat out, but the unshakeable feeling of safety when he was with the wolf was undeniable.

Monroe inhaled deeply and his tongue flicked out, swiping over the bite at the juncture of Nick’s neck and shoulder. Some of the tension left the Blutbad, and his posture become less threatening.

“You’ve been naughty,” Monroe said against Nick’s skin, the little puffs of his breath as he spoke raising prickles on the bare patch. “But not with someone else.”

Heat flushed Nick’s cheeks at the memories of what he’d been doing the night before, how he’d come not so much from the pressure on his dick, but from the pressure on the bite and his rampant imagination. Monroe sniffed him again, making Nick shudder.

Deciding that honesty was the best path towards getting what he wanted, Nick said, “I was thinking about you when I . . .”

Breaking off because Monroe was suddenly heavier against him and the logs of the hut dug into his back, Nick stopped talking, waiting to see what Monroe would do next. A hint of fang was all the warning he got before Monroe partially morphed and nipped at the scar on Nick’s shoulder.

“Your smell is tantalizing,” the wolf rasped.

A different kind of heat surged through Nick and he didn’t bother trying to hide his reaction. With a groan, he dropped his head further, some instinct driving him to give the wolf the body language that he was looking for.

“I was going to take this slow,” Monroe growled, his voice slightly distorted by the sharp teeth filling his mouth. “Court you.”

His head spinning with the desire that left his knees feeling weak, Nick said, “You already did. A long time ago.”

“Yet you’re with someone else,” Monroe replied, slightly easing his weight off Nick, who immediately mourned the loss and wanted it back.

He should have his head examined, but fuck it – he wanted Monroe to cover him, make it hard for him to breathe against the weight of the full-grown Blutbad. He wanted to feel suffocated and overwhelmed.

But the mention of Juliette temporarily doused his desire. Nick put his hands on Monroe’s naked chest, ignoring the feeling of crisp hair curling under his fingers. Monroe allowed Nick to push him away enough to put some space between them, but the move scraped the Blutbad’s erection across Nick’s thigh and he almost lost the thread of what he wanted to say.

“Something always held me back with her. I know she wants to get married, but I’ve never been able to take that step, not even in my imagination. And now I know why. It’s always been you.”

“You’re just saying that cause you want to get laid. Typical guy.”

With an amused snort, Nick shook his head, denying Monroe’s words. “When Aunt Marie dies, I’ll be a Grimm. You’re a Blutbad. We’re natural enemies.”

“Does this feel like enemies?” Monroe asked, bending his head and kissing Nick.

Opening his mouth to let Monroe invade him, Nick couldn’t hold back the moan, the need he felt for the big wolf flooding him. His body went lax as he melted into the kiss, trying frantically to deepen it, but Monroe kept it soft and sensual. Finally giving in to the gentle treatment, the urgency Nick had been feeling drifted away. His body demanded rough and harsh, and his instincts demanded that he be taken and claimed, but Monroe’s iron control dictated that they take it at the pace the Blutbad demanded. Nick acceded.

Pulling back finally, satisfaction lurked in Monroe’s eyes as the red faded into warm brown.

“Not enemies,” Nick agreed. “But to be a Grimm is to be alone.”

Rolling his eyes, Monroe said, “Don’t parrot Marie Kessler at me. You’re my mate.”

“I can’t be,” Nick said softly, voice full of regret. “My life will always be in danger. I can’t ask a partner to put up with that.”

“You’re an idiot,” Monroe answered.

“No. Being a cop is bad enough, but when you add being a Grimm on top of it? I’m not a good investment, relationship wise. You’d be in danger too.”

“You’re still an idiot. How have you survived so long on such limited brain power?”

“You have such an odd way of courting,” Nick laughed.

Moving in again, Monroe nuzzled his neck, stopping Nick’s amusement and turning it into something else entirely.

“Give me a chance to show you how we could be together,” Monroe entreated.

“I’m not the one who wanted to go slow,” Nick replied, feeling shaky.

“You’re ready for me to claim you? Mark you as mine?”

Touching the bite on his shoulder and feeling the electricity zap through his nerves at the contact, Nick asked, “Didn’t you do that already?”

Covering Nick’s fingers with his much larger hand, Monroe said, “I didn’t finish. It’s enough to keep other creatures from trying to seduce you, that’s all.”

“I thought creatures were afraid of Grimms. Why would one want to have sex with me?”

“You’d be surprised how much of a thrill the danger can be,” Monroe said darkly.

“So what does claiming involve?” Nick asked.

“Sex obviously.”

“Well, yeah. I was kind of hoping it would.” Nick attempted to leer at the big, and still very naked, man.

Rolling his eyes, Monroe said, “It would join our souls together. You’d never be satisfied with anyone else, even if we didn’t stay together.”

“What about you? I wouldn’t want you stuck with me forever.”

“It’s too late for that.”

“What do you mean?” 

“The beast, my inner wolf, the one you call Eddie, has already made his choice.”

“You can’t be with someone else?”

Tracing his fingers along Nick’s jaw in a very distracting way, Monroe said, “No, it’s not that. I can sleep with whoever will have me, maybe even fall in love. But to have a mate . . . the closeness, the belonging, words can’t describe it. Whether I claim you or not, the wolf part of me has already bonded with you.”

Not wanting to admit how much he hated the idea of Monroe falling in love with someone else, Nick asked instead, “Can we have sex without actually bonding?”

“Okay seriously? You are such a horn dog. And people talk about wolves.”

Nick looked up just in time to catch the hurt the flickered in Monroe’s eyes, just before the Blutbad lowered his lids. Reconsidering his words, Nick realized what an asshole he was being. The guy clearly had deep feelings about the issue and all Nick could think about was how good he looked naked. Of course Monroe wasn’t helping the issue by being naked all the time, distracting Nick from the issues at hand.

“You’re right,” Nick said softly. “I’m being insensitive and letting my hormones run away with me.”

“It’s flattering, really, how badly you want me,” Monroe said. “But you mean too much for me to take a roll in the sack with without considering the aftermath.”

Scritching in nails lightly on Monroe’s furred chest, Nick asked, “Can you give me some time to think about it?”

The tension eased out of Monroe’s face and he smiled gently. “Of course. You’ve a lot to consider, not just me but the whole Grimm thing and your aunt.”

He didn’t move back though, still crowding Nick against the wall, and Nick’s body reacted predictably to that. 

“Stop teasing,” Nick said, making a fair effort at a growl.

“What should I do instead?”

“Put some clothes on for a start.”

Monroe smirked at him, clearly pleased at the effect he had on Nick’s libido. He stepped back and turned to enter the hut. In what was becoming a habit, Nick watched his ass as he moved.

Hesitating a moment to gather his composure, Nick breathed carefully, waiting until he felt like his knees would hold him. When he entered the dwelling, Monroe was dressed, although his feet were bare. 

“I can’t stay long,” Nick said, feeling like he should apologize. “Aunt Marie is having a bad day.”

He felt like his aunt was some taboo subject between them, but he wasn’t going to defend his love for her, not even to Monroe, who obviously had more reason to dislike her than most. 

“There’s nothing they can do?” Monroe asked, his voice carefully even and detached.

“No.” Grief that he’d been ignoring pretty well clenched his heart. “She was there for me when I went through the hardest part of growing up. She did the best she could.”

“Do you remember your parents?”

Monroe settled on the daybed, and Nick joined him, unable to resist contact with the bigger man. He wondered why he wasn’t ashamed of his neediness, but something about Monroe made him feel completely accepted, like Monroe would never judge him for his weaknesses. Instead, Monroe tucked him against his side, curling his body so that he and Nick fit easily together.

“My memories of them are pretty scattered,” Nick admitted. “I have a lot of really vivid ones, but the day-to-day stuff has faded.”

“Did you have any idea that they were Grimm?”

After searching his fragmented memories as best he could, Nick shook his head. “They kept it from me pretty well. I seem to remember that they both worked nights, but one was always home with me.”

An awful thought occurred to him for the first time since Marie had given him the news about his heritage. “Do you think . . . were they killed by Wesen? Everyone told me it was an accident, but what if they were hunting something and it got to them first?”

Monroe tightened his arm around Nick. “I suppose it’s possible. What if it’s true? Would you look for revenge?”

Putting aside the fact that if her sister had been killed by a Wesen, Nick was pretty sure that Marie would have dealt with it long ago, Nick tried to imagine what it would be like – knowing that his parents had been murdered and having the ability to exact some rough justice on their killers. He could see himself on a quest for the truth, an obsession with finding out what really happened, but when he got to the end, when he confronted their killer – he would arrest them. That was the only thing Nick could picture himself doing. He would have to gather evidence, make a chain of logic and law. He couldn’t take an eye for an eye.

“I’d want justice,” Nick said finally. “But not revenge. So it doesn’t really change anything, does it?”

Looking up at Monroe, he found the Blutbad’s eyes full of heat and want. 

“You are one tempting package, Grimm.”

Instinctively raising his chin, Nick met Monroe head-on, giving as good as he got in a kiss that seared his very bones. With a groan against Monroe’s lips, Nick slid over his thighs until his ass rested in Monroe’s lap. Long arms swept around him, pulling him close until every inch of their bodies pressed together. Monroe’s mouth left his, nuzzling down his neck until he reached the place where the scar from the wolf bite marred the skin of Nick’s shoulder. Monroe licked at the gnarled flesh and Nick arched his back.

“Stop,” he breathed.

Pulling back immediately, Monroe looked at him with worry in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Nick panted. “It’s not that.”

He shook his head, trying to clear the fog of lust from his brain. “You gonna make me come if you keep doing that.”

Monroe’s face changed instantly from worried to smug. “I see.”

With a glare at his partner, Nick said, “Yeah, whatever you did when you bit me, it’s like it’s connected directly to my dick.”

“The bond is more fully formed than I realized,” Monroe said thoughtfully.

“I don’t mind, really,” Nick said. “I’d rather not walk back into the cabin and face Aunt Marie with come-stained pants, that’s all.”

“Yeah, she would probably do her best to come after me,” Monroe muttered.

Nick hated to break up the comforting atmosphere, but he was aware of time passing. It wasn’t fair of him to leave Aunt Marie alone while he cuddled with a Blutbad.

“I should go.” 

“Yeah.”

∼∴∼

After a mostly quiet evening where Nick did his best to be attentive, but not hovering, Marie seemed stronger than she had the night before. She walked carefully to the bookcase and took down another leather bound book and settled it in Nick’s lap.

Curiously, he opened the tome and puzzled through the archaic descriptions and difficult writing. 

“Mauz? That means mouse or something, right?”

“Yes,” she said. “Mauzhertz. Shy little things that run away to their nest at the least hint of danger.”

Conflicting thoughts barreled through Nick’s brain at her statement. Confused, he asked, “If they’re so timid, why kill them?” 

“Some Wesen are harmless, so we leave them alone. Some are vicious killers and those we root out and destroy.”

“How do you tell the difference?”

Nick knew from experience that even the most innocuous looking human could hide a twisted and ugly brain that would frighten even the most hardened homicide detective.

Indicating the book on Nick’s knee, Marie said, “We study. If we encounter a Wesen among those species with violent tendencies, then we do our duty and eliminate the threat.”

“What if that particular individual has never killed a human?” Nick argued.

“Doesn’t matter,” Aunt Marie answered, her voice hard and strong in a way it hadn’t been since he’d come back. “Their nature is to kill. We stop them before they get a chance.”

“According to the American justice system, everyone is presumed innocent until proven guilty,” Nick said. “It’s in the constitution.”

“Don’t try to apply human standards to creatures!”

“They have the same rights as everyone else,” Nick shot back.

“They have no rights! They aren’t human.”

“That doesn’t matter. Jefferson premised the Declaration that we all have natural rights, and they apply to everyone. These people you call creatures are sentient beings. They think and feel.”

“You can’t think that way, Nick. That attitude will get you killed.”

“I can’t do it, Aunt Marie. I can’t slaughter them without reason.”

The tension in her body loosened and she sank back against the sofa pillows, defeated. “That Blutbad has turned your head around.”

“I’m an officer of the law first. Above everything else,” Nick declared quietly. “It doesn’t have anything to do with him.”

“I thought if I sent you away, I could break his hold on you,” she murmured.

“You knew about the wolf?”

“Of course,” she answered. “I’ve never been stupid, and his tracks were all over the place, mixed with yours. Unmistakable.”

“Then you have to know he would never hurt me.”

“Foolish boy. I did my best to rid the world of him permanently. I cured skin after skin, but somehow I knew that I hadn’t killed your wolfish lover.”

Horrified at the idea of the number of Blutbad falling to his aunt’s blade in the name of protecting him, Nick grasped the one word that stood out like a blaze of fire. 

“My lover? I was twelve. Having sex was that last thing on my mind.”

His nerves still buzzed with the unsated want that Monroe had awoken, leaving him reckless and on edge. At twelve, when he was grieving for his parents, having a carnal relationship with the wolf had never crossed his mind, and he doubted that knowing Eddie’s true form would have changed that. The idea made him shudder internally. But now – now his body was aware of the reality of _Monroe_ and his form inescapably imprinted on Nick’s sense memory.

“And now?” she pressed.

“He’s not my lover,” Nick denied, annoyed that she had dared to ask the question when she knew full well about his indecision over Juliette and her words that he would have to spend the rest of his life alone.

But the word _yet_ hung between them in the air, unspoken but indisputable.

Turning her face to the wall, she essentially dismissed him, but Nick hesitated. He hated fighting with her, especially now when he was on the verge of losing her.

“Aunt Marie. Please.”

“We don’t have time for this,” she muttered, her voice hazy as though she was on the edge of sleep. “You have so much to learn.”

Crouching beside the sofa, Nick squeezed her shoulder in support. “I’m willing to hear everything you have to teach me.”

“Except this one thing.”

Determination hardened his tone. “Yes.”

“Let me sleep. Read the book.”

Nick pulled out her journal and retreated to the window seat that he had loved as a child, wishing that Maura were there to comfort him as she had done so long ago. He feared that he would never find a path through the powerful influences competing for him. His life had been turned upside down and he had no idea how to go on with it now that everything he had thought was true about his future had been called into question.

Deciding that he might as well start with the creature that concerned him the most, Nick flipped to the section on Blutbaden. The drawings arrested his attention, showing the wolves halfway through their transformation. He’d never seen Monroe in that state -- not-man and not-wolf. Wondering if that’s what Monroe did while he was among the humans in Portland, Nick turned the page.

He stopped at a picture of a half-transformed Blutbad on his knees while another man jabbed him in the lower back with a cudgel. Squinting, Nick was able to decipher the spidery pen and found that it described a bundle of nerves at the base of the Blutbad’s spine. Remembering his fantasy about nibbling on the dip at the base of Monroe’s spine, the revelation of the weak spot left him grinning. Imagining himself touching Monroe there, Nick closed his eyes, losing himself in a daydream about driving the other man wild with kisses to the area. If the nerves were so sensitive in that spot, the caress of a lover there ought to drive Monroe out of his mind. Not that he’d be able to take advantage of this clandestine research, Nick thought, his lips twisting in irritation. Not with Monroe wanting the act to mean something.

Resting his head against the cool glass of the window, Nick stared outside, wondering if Eddie prowled the woods, patrolling his boundaries and keeping the other creatures away.

Would it be so bad to bind himself to a werewolf? Nick thought the whole exercise was pointless, since they could never be together. What would it really cost him to do what Monroe wanted? Nick couldn’t have a normal life anyway, and he could never commit to anyone else. Juliette was proof of that. On paper, she was perfect for him – smart and beautiful, understanding of his police work and the crazy schedule it sometimes entailed. 

But he couldn’t deny that something was missing between them, some essential spark that would ignite their love into something truly special.

If he couldn’t feel that with Juliette, Nick doubted he would ever find it with anyone. Which left the question of Monroe. If Monroe were telling the truth about the bond from his side of things, then it wouldn’t make any difference, just give the werewolf the consummation of what he already felt. Nick had no reason to think that Monroe would lie about that, but being the cop that he was, he applied the classic question of motive to the issue. Monroe could have taken the easy way if he wanted to get into Nick’s pants; Nick had certainly offered him the option often enough. If the idea was to get close enough to the Grimm to kill him, then Monroe had already wasted plenty of opportunities for that as well. Unless there were things he really didn’t know about the creature world, Nick could see no way that Monroe would profit financially from bonding with Nick.

Convinced that Monroe had been honest about his motivations, Nick thought that perhaps it might be to his advantage to be the mate of a Blutbad. If the entire creature world was gunning for him the way Marie suggested, the claim on him might make some of them hesitate. Satisfied with his rational analysis of the situation, and convinced that he wasn’t acting with either his dick or his heart, Nick decided to find Monroe the next day and let him know about his decision.

In the morning, the rain fell in heavy sheet, obscuring the trees that were but yards away from the doorstep. Deciding that he had business to attend to, and that it was no day for romping in the woods, Nick made a grocery list. After he had gotten Marie settled with her pills and a water carafe and plenty of things to read, Nick told his aunt that they needed supplies and headed for Butte Falls.

As soon as he sighted a cell phone tower, Nick pulled over and got out his mobile. The windshield wipers slapped at the rain as he stared out the window, hesitating before he took the final step. He hated what he was about to do, but he couldn’t go to Monroe without making things as right as possible for all parties. After staring at it for far too long, with a sigh, he finally keyed the number. 

_”Nick! Finally.”_

“There’s no cell service at the cabin,” Nick said, already feeling bad.

_“I’m glad you called. How is Aunt Marie? And when can I meet her?”_

Shifting restlessly in his seat, Nick gritted his teeth and his resolve. Talking to Juliette made his life seem like it was normal again, like he was an ordinary police officer with a beautiful girlfriend and a bright future. But the truth that he finally had to accept, and maybe he had known all along, since he first came to the mountains, was that he wasn’t normal, never would be, and there was no use pretending otherwise.

“We need to talk.”

Her voice lost its bubbly quality. _“That doesn’t sound good.”_

“I’ve done a lot of thinking while I’ve been up here. And . . . this isn’t working between us. I think we both know it.”

_“I thought it was working just fine,”_ she replied, the edges of grief in her voice.

“There’s always been something missing,” he argued, the small selfish part of him wanting her to agree with him so he didn’t have to be the bad guy.

_“You’ve met someone,”_ she accused.

Rubbing his forehead, Nick said, “No. Re-met. I’ve known him since I was little. But that’s not the only reason for this.”

_“Him.”_

“Yeah. Is that a problem?”

_“No more than any of this is.”_

Clenching the phone so tight he was afraid that he’d break the plastic, Nick hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

She hung up on him. Nick sat in the truck for a long time, arguing with himself, but in the end, he decided that he couldn’t have done it any other way. Monroe didn’t deserve to be his dirty little secret and he couldn’t resist the pull that the Blutbad exerted on him. Maybe breaking up with her over the phone was a shitty thing to do, and maybe he should have resisted Monroe’s allure until he could get back to San Francisco to see her face to face. But he hadn’t and he was already lost to the wolf, probably always had been and hadn’t known it until he had seen Eddie’s human form.

Putting the truck in gear, he finished the drive to Butte Falls. Earlier while Marie was still sleeping, he’d snuck a look at her pill bottles and gotten the name and phone number of her doctor. He typed the name into the phone’s map and followed the pin to the guy’s office.

“Can I help you, sir?” the middle-aged receptionist asked.

“My name is Nick Burkhardt. I’m Marie Kessler’s nephew from San Francisco. I was wondering if I could talk to Dr. Stevens about her.”

“I’ll ask,” he said. He punched a few buttons on his console and then said, “A Nick Burkhardt is here about Mrs. Kessler.”

The man listened for a few moments, and then said, “All right.” He turned to Nick. “She’ll talk to you. Just through the door and last room on the left.”

At the indicated door, Nick found a clean lined office with a lovely woman behind the desk. Extending his hand, he said, “Detective Nick Burkhardt.”

“Nice to meet you,” she returned. “Doctor Marlena Stevens.”

“Are you able to talk to me about my aunt?” Nick took the chair in front of the desk that she’d indicated.

“Yes, fortunately, she has designated you as holding her medical power of attorney.”

“What can be done for her?”

Dr. Stevens sighed. “I’m a family practitioner, not an oncologist. She refuses to go to a specialist, but I’ve talked with my colleagues about her case and sent all my reports along to an oncologist in Salem. They agree that her time is limited. The best we can do is put her in hospice care and see that she’s comfortable.”

“She won’t go to a hospital.”

Shaking her head, the doctor said, “Yes, we’ve had that discussion many times. I can’t give her morphine to take at home, although I’ll tell you that I gave her one syringe to be used only at the utmost crisis. Save it for that.”

“How do I inject it?” Nick asked, feeling lost.

“Her veins should be easy to find. She’s lost a lot of weight. But make a tourniquet and they’ll pop up. You’re a police officer, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’ve had the basics of first aid. You can do it.”

“I’ll have to.”

“I’m relieved that someone is with her,” Dr. Stevens said. “I hated the idea of her dying up there alone.”

“Yeah,” Nick said, his voice thick. “Thanks for the help.”

He wandered the streets of the tiny town for a while after that, ducking from doorway to doorway to keep out of the rain. Part of him didn’t want to go back up to the mountain and face all the difficult choices that awaited him there. Part of him wanted to go to Monroe and lose himself in the sensual fog that they created between the two of them. Feeling lonelier than he could remember since the day his parents died, Nick finally stopped at a small café and ordered a ridiculously sweet and frothy latte. 

Sipping his coffee and staring out the window at the driving rain, Nick tried to empty his mind of his worry and confusion. He needed a little space without the craziness of the last few days weighing on him.

Finally pulling himself together, he left a generous tip as an apology for taking up space for so long and then headed towards the store to get their groceries.

Marie was not talkative when he returned, and Nick moved silently around her. Once again, she barely touched her food. Nick thought about grabbing her and forcing her to the hospitals where an IV could sustain her frail body, but knew he wouldn’t do it. It would violate her fierce independence and his moral code.

After spending a restless night where his body physically ached for Monroe, Nick fled the house early, glad to see the sunshine drying out the forest.

He found Eddie almost immediately; the wolf was lounging on a fallen log and narrowly watching a squirrel hop around on the branches far above his head. The wolf looked regretful that he couldn’t devour the small animal, but clearly he stuck to Monroe’s regimen.

Kneeling on the forest duff at the base of the log, Nick stared into the green-gold eyes that the wolf shared with Monroe most of the time. Having seen them flare red occasionally, Nick knew that the beast was never far from the surface.

Eddie stretched his neck forward and licked Nick’s face, a form of lupine greeting, Nick supposed, grateful that the wolf didn’t seem inclined to sniff his butt. Not that he would mind that from Monroe, he decided. The wolf panted noisily, making Nick wonder if even the slightest whiff of arousal was obvious to the animal.

“Listen,” Nick said, reaching for the beast and burying his hands in the thick ruff of fur around Eddie’s neck. “I want you. All of you. I want to belong to you. Do whatever you need to do to claim me.”

Standing up, he threw his body onto Eddie’s back and clung tightly as the wolf bounded through the woods.

At Monroe’s hut, Nick slid off the wolf’s back and stepped back, waiting impatiently for Eddie to transform. The wolf stared at him, his eyes seemingly full of questions, but Nick met his gaze without hesitation.

With a shake of his head, the wolf faded away and Monroe stood up. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Monroe was the one sure thing in his life and the one thing of which Nick had absolutely no doubts. The Blutbad was his.

Holding out his hand for Nick to take, Monroe drew him close when Nick accepted it. Lacing their fingers together, Monroe lifted their joined hands and nipped at Nick’s knuckles. With a laugh, Nick stepped closer and tipped his face up, momentarily regretting the difference in their heights.

Monroe obliged, bending his neck so that Nick could attack his lips. Nick kept his hands busy, glad to be able to touch all of Monroe’s bare skin after waiting so long for it. Monroe wasn’t a ripped up gym bunny by any means, but he was lean and strong in a way that a man got from actually doing things.

Pulling away a moment, Nick said. “Nice. Your body. I like it, if you couldn’t tell.”

“Pilates,” Monroe answered, his hands scrabbling with the bottom of Nick’s flannel, clearly not going to take the time to work the buttons. Nick obediently raised his arms when Monroe tugged on the shirt, letting it slide off, discarded on the floor.

Through his t-shirt, Nick could feel the heat rolling off Monroe, and the thought of being so close to the Blutbad made him shiver. He pulled the cotton shirt over his head quickly and then surged back against Monroe. He groaned when their bodies connected, skin to skin at last. His hands roamed over Monroe’s back, clutching at the strong muscles.

Turning them around, Nick tugged on Monroe, dragging him over to the bed. Nick had expected that once the wolf had been given the go-ahead that he’d be all dominant and aggressive, but Monroe seemed willing to let Nick direct things.

“You’re not afraid of hurting me, are you?” Nick asked as the thought occurred to him that maybe that was why Monroe was letting him have his way.

Monroe snorted. “You’re a Grimm. I think you can handle a Blutbad mating.”

“Okay. Well. Good.” Nick scooted onto the daybed, hands wrapped around Monroe’s shoulders. “I thought you’d be more . . . grrr. You know.”

Shoulders shaking with what Nick soon realized was laughter, Monroe said, “Let’s just take it easy this time, okay? Get to know each other.”

“Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

“But I totally plan to ravish you within an inch of your life at a later date.”

“Duly noted,” Nick said, but then he kissed Monroe again, ready to stop talking and move things along.

His roaming hands trailed down Monroe’s spine until he encountered the fuzzy cheeks of Monroe’s ass. Nick dug his fingers into the lithe muscle, pressing Monroe closer until their groins connected. Tossing his head back as the sensation rocketed through his body, Nick let out a howl that might have embarrassed him in other circumstances, but he felt no inhibitions around Monroe.

“My jeans,” he panted. 

Monroe sat up and flipped the button open before sliding the zip down. Nick helped out, lifting his hips so Monroe could pull the denim off his legs. Folding the garments carefully, Monroe appeared to be stalling.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Monroe said with a half smile. “Just . . . you smell delicious. Don’t want to lose it too soon.”

Feeling proud of his ability to push the edges of Monroe’s control, Nick arched his back, raising his pelvis to that Monroe could get rid of his briefs. Monroe complied, but when they were gone, he stayed between Nick’s splayed legs, big hands covering Nick’s thighs and urging them farther apart. 

Every move was gentle and cautious, but the atmosphere had shifted. Aware of Monroe’s leashed power and the control he was exerting, Nick shuddered. Monroe had taken over their encounter with barely a twitch of his muscles. Nick waited patiently for his Blutbad lover to instruct him. He wasn’t used to being passive, but it felt right to submit, to give himself entirely to Monroe.

Monroe’s hot gaze raked over him and Nick whined, wanting contact. That drew Monroe’s eyes to his face even as the wolf pushed his knees up and out. Nick complied eagerly with his unspoken commands.

“I have to knot you,” Monroe said, eyes never leaving Nick’s

“Knot?”

“Tie you close to me when I come. Wolves aren’t that different from dogs in that respect.”

“Oh.” Nick blushed as he remembered what he knew of dogs and their mating. “Is it . . . does it happen every time?”

“Not unless it’s particularly emotionally intense. Usually I can control it,” Monroe answered. “But if it’s a claiming mating, then yeah, the knot is going to come out. It’s part of the process.”

“How big is it?”

Monroe considered for a moment. “Like a tennis ball, maybe? I don’t know really. I’ve never claimed my mate before.” 

Nick winced. “Will it hurt?”

“You’ll stretch,” Monroe said, running his hands down Nick’s arms and grasping his hands. “If I do it right, you’ll feel the burn from that, but the rest will be nothing but pleasure.”

“I trust you,” Nick replied.

Bowing his head and breathing heavily, Monroe rested his rough cheek on Nick’s knee. “You undo me, Grimm.”

“Yeah, likewise,” Nick panted. Mischief seized him and he added, “Or you would. If you’d, you know, actually _do_ me.”

Red flared in Monroe’s eyes, but Nick couldn’t find it in him to be afraid of the Blutbad. Eddie would never hurt him and Monroe certainly wouldn’t, but Nick discovered that he got a certain satisfaction from pushing the wolf’s buttons.

But Monroe pulled himself together, reaching for the bottle of lube on the windowsill above the bed. He kept his movements gentle and careful, and while Nick was perfectly okay with a lot less finesse and more urgency, he bit back any more sarcastic comments, aware that he had to let Monroe do things his way. Perhaps that was for the best, considering that they were technically different species. And that thought made him hotter than it should.

Luckily Monroe picked that moment to slide a long finger into Nick’s body, so the awkward burst of arousal that his thoughts produced was totally explainable. Maybe someday he’d tell Monroe how kinky he really was.

Falling into the sensation of Monroe finally touching him like he’d wanted, Nick surrendered to the touch without argument, letting Monroe turn him over and pull him onto his hands and knees. The fingers left him, and the heat and pressure touched his hole and Nick instinctively flexed his muscles to help Monroe inside him.

Monroe latched onto the scarred bite and Nick whined as the familiar link between it and his dick flooded his body with pleasure. When Monroe bottomed out, his hairy thighs scraping against his legs, Nick squirmed, trying to get more of Monroe inside him.

“Easy,” Monroe said, his hands rubbing circles against Nick’s tightly flexed thighs. “We’ll get there.”

“I want . . .”

“I know.”

He leaned over and nibbled light kisses along the edge of Nick’s shoulder blades. On the theory that Monroe probably had a better idea of what they were doing, Nick stopped trying to hasten things along. His take-charge nature wouldn’t do him any good in that situation, he knew, but it was hard to let go of control of the encounter.

Monroe gave a few experimental thrusts and Nick tried very hard not to clamp down so Monroe could move, when what he really wanted was to hold Monroe there and not let him free.

“That’s the way,” Monroe crooned. “Let me take care of you.”

A wordless complaint fell from Nick’s mouth, and he’d normally be embarrassed by his inability to form actual words, but in this case, he thought he might be excused. The connection between the scar on his shoulder and his dick now seemed to have another dimension with Monroe’s cock inside him and the circuit of pleasure it created was driving him out of his mind. He desperately wanted to touch himself, end the slow building and irrevocable build up, but the position left him balanced on his hands and Nick didn’t think he could get one free without tipping over on his face. He had to rely on Monroe to keep him balanced, and that was another thing he wanted to fight, but he had to let that go too.

Monroe changed his grip, spreading Nick’s thighs further and pulling him back tightly against his groin. Nick cried out as the shaft inside him thickened and grew. Monroe’s hands were implacable, holding him in place as Nick tried to squirm, but found himself unable to move, held in place by his strong Blutbad lover.

The sensations that seemed overwhelming before had become unbearable and Nick didn’t think he could take any of it with his mind intact.

“I can’t,” Nick whined.

Everything was too overwhelming – he was too full, stretched to the very limits of his body. The pleasure was too much, drowning him in it. And whatever mystical power Monroe had invoked with their coupling was pouring through the two of them where they were connected, and Nick didn’t think his mortal body could contain it.

“Too much.”

Big hands touched him, soothing all the prickly places. “I’ve got you,” Monroe murmured. “Just let it happen.”

“Can’t.”

“You can.”

Teeth scraped the bite on his shoulder, and suddenly everything opened. His body accepted the knot and the ecstasy that it brought with it. His mind stopped resisting the connection with Monroe, and the blazing fire of their love and desire poured through him.

Letting himself flow with the white fire, Nick registered dimly that he was coming, his body sputtering and clenching around the huge invasion that was Monroe’s knot. Heat seared his insides and the thing inside him pulsed hotly. Monroe guided them down, lifting Nick’s leg to open him further. Nick trembled with aftershocks and the ebb tide of his receding endorphins. Monroe’s mouth on his skin gradually soothed him into stillness.

Letting his eyes drift closed, Nick floated, the only motions in the tiny hut their ragged breathing and the throbbing in his ass as Monroe continued to pour come into his battered body.

Nick lost track of time.

The sensation of Monroe finally pulling out roused him from his stupor. He wondered if he looked as fucked out as he felt. Monroe was draped over him, long body holding him down against the mattress. Nick tried to remember any other sexual encounter in his life that had matched that one for pure intensity, but couldn’t think of anything. 

Memory of pleasure invoked pleasure, and ripples of desire trickled through him, leaving him wanting to mate again. 

“I smell that,” Monroe rumbled.

His face pressed into the blanket that smelled of wolf, and Monroe, and sex, Nick inhaled deeply, fighting to expand his lungs completely with Monroe’s weight on him. The Blutbad laced their fingers together, his partially changed into claws that could slice Nick open with just a flick of Monroe’s wrist. Knowing that he should be more worried about the inherent danger of having a werewolf lover had no effect on Nick’s desire as he rolled his hips up, trying to get Monroe to _do_ something. 

With a chuckle, Monroe nipped at his ear, and said, “Lie still.”

Any urge to argue with him was quashed as Monroe slid his cock into the gap between Nick’s still slippery thighs. Nick shuddered as the long shaft scraped along the bottom of his balls. The copious amount of come left over from Monroe’s knotting him made everything so slippery that they moved easily together. 

Curling his hand around his cock, Nick timed his strokes with Monroe’s thrusts between his thighs. The effort of keeping his legs closed to give Monroe the most pleasure distracted Nick from seeking his own orgasm. When Monroe finally shuddered and warm pulses coated Nicks’ groin, he concentrated on his dick and the climax that blazed through him left weak and shaking.

Monroe rolled them together; his dick still rested between Nick’s legs like it belonged there. Nick sank into the comfort and warmth of Monroe’s embrace, drifting on the receding endorphins from the intensity of their coupling.

The weak sun outside had changed angles by the time Nick paid attention to anything again. Reluctantly standing up, he gathered up his clothes and pulled them onto his musky smelling body. He definitely needed a shower.

Nick leaned over the daybed and pressed a soft kiss to Monroe’s brow. The Blutbad mumbled something, but Nick dodged his seeking hand reluctantly. He’d love nothing more than to stay with Monroe in bed and never get up, but he had responsibilities to his aunt. 

Slipping out of the hut with his boots in his hand, Nick stopped and inhaled the scent of the damp forest. He sat down and laced up, aware that he was stalling; the desire to stay with Monroe so strong that he felt like it was a rope pulling him back. Shoving away the sensation, he ducked under sweeping branches of Douglas fir to find the path back to Marie’s cabin.

While he walked, Nick sorted out what he was feeling, vaguely glad that Monroe hadn’t gotten out of bed to escort him back. Nick could use the processing time.

His body ached, but more in a tired muscles sort of way that he knew would be worse the next morning. Monroe had been careful with him, but there was a sensitivity in his nerves that wouldn’t forget the feel of Monroe inside him for a long time. 

Aware that he was grinning stupidly, Nick laughed to himself. Despite all the shit dumping on his head, he was happy. Being Monroe’s mate, belonging to the Blutbad, settled something inside him. That piece that had missing in his other relationships had finally resolved itself. 

Looking up, Nick saw the break in the canopy of evergreens that told him the clearing with the cabin was just ahead. Feeling itchy with the fluids left drying on his body, he anticipated a warm shower and a relaxing evening studying Aunt Marie’s journals.

A harsh growl that jarred the inner bones of his ears shattered the air. Spinning around, Nick confronted a horrific figure stumbling out of the undergrowth. It was vaguely humanoid, but with up-curving tusks sprouting out of its lower jaw and disproportionately long arms that ended in gnarled fists like hardened lava. The thing was half a meter taller than Nick, a tower of solid muscle, bone, and sinew. Its eyes blazed with an evil fire.

“Holy shit!”

Nick ducked under a wild swing that shattered the fir tree behind him sending splintered bits of wood flying in all directions. The creature straightened up and peered at Nick, lining up for another blow. Nick was almost positive that he wouldn’t survive if the thing actually connected with any part of his body.

Discarding the vague idea of taking it down with a few well-placed kicks, Nick tried to come up with a plan. Racing for the cabin was clearly out. Neither he nor Marie was in any shape to deal with something like this. His service pistol was in a lock box under his bed, but Nick wasn’t certain that anything short of an elephant gun would take out the monster.

Rocking on the balls of his feet, Nick tried to watch the beast to anticipate which way it was going to move next. If they were on the open ground, Nick had no doubt that his lighter mass would work to his advantage, and he would have been able to outrun his attacker. Out here, with the tumbled rocks and tree roots, Nick didn’t have a chance of getting away without breaking his neck.

The beast lowered its head, clearly intending to barrel headlong into Nick. Determined to wait to the last minute to jump away, Nick stood his ground. 

The earth trembled as the creature moved, its thudding footfalls shaking the trees. Before it could take more than three paces, a grey-brown shape hurtled out of the trees, a war cry bursting from its throat. The wolf launched itself onto the beast’s shoulders, not pausing before crunching down on the exposed neck. 

As the powerful jaws snapped shut, the monster faltered. Nick winced as its eyes went blank to the sound of its vertebrae crunching in Eddie’s jaws. Still locked in their grotesque embrace, the two of them crashed to the ground as the thing’s knees gave out. Eddie leaped away as the beast thrashed in its dying throes, but the wolf darted in again, latching onto the thick throat and then ripping out flesh and tendons and all sorts of stringy things that made Nick’s gorge want to rise. Blood fountained out of the wound, reassuringly red, Nick thought. If it had red blood, it was based on the same thing as the rest of life on the planet and could be killed with the usual tools that he had at his disposal.

Eddie backed away with a huff of satisfaction, evidently certain that his foe wouldn’t rise again. 

Finally catching his breath, Nick whispered, “Eddie?”

The wolf turned to him and the light of rage faded leaving the familiar warm green-gold. His muzzle was coated with blood, and globs of unspeakable things were caught in his fur. Nick didn’t care. He knelt in the familiar position at Eddie’s shoulder, grabbing his ruff.

Under his fingers, the fur gradually disappeared, leaving Nick clinging to Monroe’s naked shoulders. 

“Are you okay?” Nick asked, pulling back to check for injuries on Monroe’s pale skin.

Monroe snorted, his hands drifting over Nick’s back and cupping his ass to press him closer. “Me? I’m fine. What about you?”

“It didn’t touch me,” Nick replied. “What was that?”

“A Hässlich,” Monroe said. 

“A what now?”

“A troll sort of thing.”

“A troll.” Nick searched his memory of fairy tales. “Like Three Billy Goats Gruff?”

“Basically. They are pretty obsessed with bridges. Although they get involved in a lot of other things. As you can see.”

“Thanks for the assist,” Nick said, leaning into Monroe. “How did you know?”

“Uh, well. I followed you. You’re mine and I’m not letting a baby Grimm wander around unprotected.”

Part of Nick wanted to yell at him for assuming he was helpless, but the bigger part of him was warmed by Monroe’s protectiveness. Belonging to a werewolf apparently had nuances that Nick hadn’t considered when he’d asked Monroe to claim him.

“You’re a cop,” Monroe continued. “Don’t you have a gun?”

“Yeah. It’s under the bed.”

“Well that’s useful.”

“Hey, I wasn’t planning on becoming a target out in the middle of nowhere,” Nick protested.

“You are,” Monroe said, glaring at him. “You will be for the rest of your life. Get used to it.”

“I thought I was,” Nick muttered. “Being a police officer.”

“This is a whole new level of exposure,” Monroe argued.

“Okay, okay. I’ll carry the gun.”

“Good.”

Monroe grabbed his hand, interlacing their fingers and tugging Nick forward to the clearing. At the edge of the trees, he stopped and brushed his lips over Nick’s knuckles.

“Go on. I’ll watch till you get inside.”

Nick took a few paces into the meadow and then turned around to find the naked Blutbad still watching him.

“Are you always going to have my back?”

“Always, little Grimm,” Monroe said with a dangerous grin. “Go on now. I’m just going to . . . reinforce the borders.”

With a laugh, Nick loped towards the porch, feeling a little weird and a little turned on by the idea of Monroe pissing everywhere.

Up in the loft, he pulled his side arm out of its case and stared at it for a moment before inserting the clip. He didn’t like the idea of going armed through the woods, where he was supposed to be safe from the human predators that he usually dealt with. But the troll attack had hit home, making him aware as never before that his life had changed and would never go back to normal. 

After taking a shower, Nick dished up the hearty stew that he’d put together before going to Monroe. Marie didn’t eat any more than usual, and Nick hoped she didn’t think she was fooling him with her creative rearranging of the things on her bowl.

He considered asking her what to do about the body of the troll on the edge of the forest, but he really didn’t want to hear about what price she could get for trading its carcass. 

Picking up a slotted spoon, Nick fished all the chunks of meat and vegetables out. “At least drink the broth,” he urged.

She gave him a fond smile and tipped the bowl up. Nick decided he would become an expert on soup as soon as possible. 

They spent a quiet evening, and Nick was relieved that they didn’t argue about Monroe, or his Grimm duties, or any of the other nagging issues that loomed over them.

∼∴∼

After settling his aunt on the couch, Nick headed outside, feeling guilty for leaving her alone so much. He wondered if that was his lot in life – to always feel torn apart by conflicting duties and desires.

Instead of Eddie, Nick found Monroe at the edge of the forest. 

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Nick grumped, feeling put out by everyone and everything in his life.

“Can’t a guy take a walk in the forest with his mate?”

“Yeah. Sorry.” 

Tugging on Monroe’s arm, he pulled the taller man down until he could get at his mouth properly. He went after Monroe aggressively, chasing his tongue and clacking their teeth. Monroe responded eagerly, but after a moment, Nick gentled the kiss, sighing as peace swept over him. The contact with his mate brushed away all the niggling troubles. He wondered how he would survive living without the Blutbad. He no longer argued with himself about terming Monroe his ‘mate’ even after so short a time together. 

They took the path to Monroe’s hut, maintaining contact in a hundred small ways. 

Ducking under the entrance to the small dwelling, Nick pulled at his clothes, not wanting to waste time talking. Monroe got the hint and covered him, fingers probing Nick’s entrance.

“I’m ready,” Nick insisted. “I want you there.”

“You don’t mind if I make sure,” Monroe mumbled against the bite on Nick’s shoulder. “I don’t plan to hurt you.”

The contact with the scar sent lust soaring through his body and Nick felt his muscles loosen without the necessity of Monroe’s fingers stretching him. He wondered if it was another side effect of the claim, but he didn’t really care why it was; he just wanted Monroe to fuck him.

“I’m your mate,” Nick argued. “I’m ready.”

Monroe grumbled something else, but he leaned over and grabbed the bottle of lube, tipping it messily over himself while keeping Nick pinned with his shoulders. Nick enjoyed the weight of the Blutbad bearing him down against the mattress.

Concentrating on the feeling of the blunt head of Monroe’s shaft pushing against him, Nick sighed as Monroe slipped into him without resistance. Monroe helped him hoist his legs up so that the Blutbad could fuck into him as deeply as possible. Feeling full and content with Monroe on top of him, Nick didn’t really care if he came or not. 

When Monroe finished, he pulled out, ignoring Nick’s whine of protest as his body emptied. Nick shouted as wet heat engulfed his cock and the hairs of Monroe’s beard tickled his thighs. Giving him no quarter, Monroe sucked him off with strong pulls on his cock. Nick thrust mindlessly into Monroe’s mouth, trusting that the other man would hold him back if he got too deep.

Feeling drained, not just physically, but of all emotions he’d been wrestling with, Nick snuggled up against his mate.

“Once you’re through with your post-coital feeble-mindedness, we should make plans,” Monroe said after a while.

The affection in Monroe’s voice removed any insult from his words, and Nick couldn’t muster the energy to point out that every guy got stupid after sex.

The meaning of Monroe’s words finally penetrated his daze and Nick asked, “What plans?”

“Housekeeping, jobs, that sort of thing.”

“What?”

Monroe gave him an amused look that Nick was starting to recognize as Monroe thinking that he was being particularly thick.

“I’m not saying we should be making wedding arrangements, and I know you’ve got a lot of things on your mind with your aunt and the Grimm, but we should settle a few basic things, don’t you think?”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“Am I using words of too many syllables?”

“What is it that you want?” Nick begged, trying to understand what demands Monroe wanted to make on him. He didn’t want to talk about this; he just wanted to float on a haze of sated lust and maybe have Monroe fuck him again later. He was pissed that Monroe had started the conversation. 

“What I want? I want to be with my mate. I want my mate to have love and security, and not walk the path of the Grimm alone in a Wesen-slaughtering frenzy.”

“So that’s it,” Nick laughed bitterly. “You’re using me to keep your people safe. That’s a novel way of stopping a Grimm from killing Wesen . . . seduce him, make him fall in love.”

“Using you?” Monroe growled. “I think that is your claim to fame.”

“How am I using you?” Nick protested.

“When do you ever turn to me? Only when you’re lost and grieving.”

“That’s not fair! I didn’t know about you until now. And besides, how else was I supposed to be after I lost my parents?”

“Yeah? How many nights do you think I’ve kept myself awake wondering if you’ll need me, if you’ll _want_ me, when you’re happy.”

Resisting the urge to give in to his rising anger, Nick considered what Monroe was saying. He could see why the Blutbad might think that. 

“Okay, maybe you have a point. But here’s what I think . . . every time I think about my future, whether happy or sad, I picture you there with me.”

“But yet you refuse to _be_ with me. You’ll walk away from this and go do your Grimm thing all by yourself.”

“What would you have me do?”

Monroe curled up, his body taking on lines of misery that made Nick’s heart ache. “Live with me, be with me. I don’t care where. San Francisco, Portland, wherever.”

Remembering Juliette and the pinched lines around her mouth whenever he caught a dangerous case or when the nightly news featured the death of another police officer, Nick knew that he couldn’t put anyone else through that. He had been selfish to think he could make a life with either of them. Being a Grimm just made everything worse, and multiplied the danger he was in on any given day.

“I can’t.”

“You condemn us both to lives of misery.”

“But you’ll be safe.”

“I’m not exactly helpless. And you should leave that for me to decide in any case.”

“I’m sorry.”

Not knowing what else to say, and hating the disappointed look in Monroe’s eyes, Nick pulled away. Monroe didn’t watch, as Nick got dressed. He hesitated at the doorway, but there wasn’t really anything else to say.

He made his way back to the cabin, halfway expecting to be attacked again. Nick felt dreadfully alone, but his instincts told him that the wolf was shadowing him, watching his back the way he’d promised. Grief welled up again, and he wondered how far away Eddie had to be to smell the salt on his face.

His morose mood didn’t go unnoticed. 

“I know exactly how you feel about that Blutbad,” Aunt Marie said after Nick finished helping her with the broth.

“You couldn’t possibly,” Nick replied, the hurt of loss already filling him. 

The brief time he’d spent with Monroe was never going to be enough and the knowledge that he would spend the rest of his life aching for his mate was painful. He stared out the window, wishing he were running free through the woods with Monroe by his side.

“No, I do,” she insisted. “I loved a Wesen creature once, too.”

Turning around, Nick didn’t bother hiding his shock. “What?”

“He was a Steinadler. A hawk creature.”

Pulling a chair up beside her bed, Nick asked, “What happened?”

“We were engaged,” she said. “I knew what he was, but I didn’t care. Until the Grimm came on me. I knew then that there was no use trying to live in two worlds. I let him go.”

“How?” Nick wanted to wail and scream at the injustice of it. “How could you manage it?”

“Duty. Knowledge of what I had to do strengthened me, gave me the courage to live my life alone.”

“For his sake? Like Juliette?”

“Oh no, I’m sure he could have taken care of himself. He was strong and fierce.”

“Why then?”

“Because a Grimm and a creature are never meant to be together. It’s unnatural.”

“Did you kill him?”

“Not as far as I know,” she answered.

“What do you mean?”

“Some creatures pine away without their mates.”

“Did you ever check?” he asked, horrified at the cold-blooded single-mindedness that drove her to such extremes with both her feelings and those of her lover.

“No.”

“Were you happy?” he asked.

“Happiness doesn’t come into it,” she answered. “There is satisfaction in a job well-done.”

Turning back to the window, Nick thought about her stern exterior and the bitter tilt to her mouth. How she had lived so much of her life without the love and support of her mate, and now she lay dying and her Steinadler lover might never know what happened to her. He thought of all the Blutbad skins in the curing shed and shivered, wondering if thwarted love led to her obsession with killing that couldn’t see the truth and didn’t want to think that there might be any other way.

Understanding came to him then, and he realized that she couldn’t afford to see the creatures she hunted as anything other than savage animals. Otherwise, she probably couldn’t deal with the loss of the one that she had loved; she would have to face the knowledge that she sent him away for no good reason.

He turned out the light and slipped out of the room, not sure what to do with his new understanding. Nick wanted to go to Monroe, but didn’t dare leave her in the middle of the night. Weary and sad, he finally curled up in his bed, wishing Monroe’s heavy body was there, warm against his back.

In the middle of the night, Nick sat up in his bed, wrenched from his sleep by some unknown alarm. His heart thundered and he slowed his breathing, trying to find whatever thing had awakened him.

Nothing seemed out of place, but Nick picked up his gun anyway and slipped carefully down the steep stairs of the loft to the open room below. The doors and windows seemed secure, but he pressed his finger on the safety, ready to disengage it at the slightest hint that they were under attack.

He eased towards the window, careful to keep out of any sight lines. The uncovered glass didn’t provide much protection, but Nick kept to the edges before carefully looking out. He could see nothing in the peaceful forest outside, no disturbance in the trees, no sounds of struggle. He wondered if Eddie was out there somewhere, protecting the borders. Despite their argument, Nick had no doubts about Monroe’s feelings for him.

A noise came from the direction of Marie’s bedroom. Spinning around, Nick instinctively raised the gun, crouching as he moved forward. At the doorway, he turned the knob slowly, unwilling to alert whatever was in there with her.

As the door swung open, Nick used all his senses to determine where the danger was, but the only being in the room that he could tell was Marie.

A shuddering gasp came from the bed, and sorrow washed through Nick as he realized what had pulled him from sleep.

He set the gun down carefully and then pulled the big over-stuffed chair beside the bed, settling into it in preparation for his vigil. As he watched her struggle to breathe, Nick kept his thoughts blank, shying desperately away from anything having to do with his current situation. He took inventory of all the sunsets he could remember, he thought about the way waves hit the beach, and he went through MUNI routes in his head, tracing through parts of his city.

Once, he stood up and got a glass of water, sipping at it to keep himself awake.

Twittering birdsong alerted him that the room was growing lighter. Nick scrubbed at his eyes, feeling like someone had poured sand into them. 

As the light touched the room, lifting the shadows of the night, Nick saw that Marie’s skin had taken a tone like pale marble, losing what little color she had. The flesh seemed to have dropped off her bones over night, leaving the structure of her skeleton clear to see. He fought back his grief, not willing to burden her with what she must already know.

She finally turned over, unfocused eyes opening and looking bluer than he’d ever seen them.

“Aunt Marie.”

“Nick.”

Her voice was a harsh rasp, like something from the throat of a beast, all humanity stripped away from it. She sounded worse than Monroe when he was partially transformed.

“Let me get you some water,” he said.

“Yes,” she croaked.

He helped her with the straw, but even though her throat and lungs struggled, she could get hardly any liquid into her body.

“It’s soon,” she said, exerting herself to speak against her failing body. “I can feel it. Our instincts don’t lie. Trust yours. Always.”

“Okay.”

“Burn me,” Marie demanded.

“Aunt Marie,” Nick protested.

“No. I won’t be picked over by scavengers seeking power.”

Rubbing his eyes to stave off tears and horror at the idea of some creature digging up Grimms for body parts, Nick agreed.

“Okay,” he said again. He’d known it was soon since he walked into her room in the dead of night. The on-rushing events were becoming too much to bear. Grief at his imminent loss made his head hurt while the memories of Monroe skittered across his nerves, as though the Blutbad was embedded in his very cells and would never leave.

She fumbled for his hand, and he took her frail fingers gently in his, cradling them as he would a wounded bird.

“I have one syringe,” she said, her voice nearly incomprehensible over the rattle in her throat. “For pain.”

“Okay,” he said, fighting the tears away so she wouldn’t see them.

“You’ll know when.”

Turning eyes that were already focused on the next world towards him, Aunt Marie demanded, “Prepare. Now.”

Supposing that she meant making a pyre, Nick exited the cabin in the opposite direction from Monroe’s hut. Dealing with his werewolf lover was pretty low on his priorities at the moment, and Monroe would have to understand.

He gathered as much dead wood as he could find in the immediate vicinity and dragged it back to the clearing around the cabin. He scraped the turf and weeds off in a large area and hauled stones from the creek to create a firebreak. In the tool shed, Nick found several boards the he used to create the base of the pyre.

On impulse, he walked quietly as possible back into the cabin and lifted Marie’s key ring. Unlocking the curing shed, he lifted down all the wolf skins that Marie hadn’t had a chance to trade. They had always made him uncomfortable long before he knew the truth about what she did. They represented an abuse of power that the policeman side of him was entirely uncomfortable with, and now that he knew about her past, he knew that they were a way of her working out her grief at her losses. All of those destructive emotions could die with her.

Placing the skins at the bottom of the pyre, he built the rest of the structure around them, determined to exorcise the worst of Marie’s sins along with her physical remains when the time came. If he had to be a Grimm, he was resolute that he would never be the type to kill without reason. If Monroe could reform himself, then there was no reason to think that other creatures couldn’t do the same. Nick would give them the chance -- in the name of both common decency and in the name of the love he had for his wieder Blutbad.

Walking back into the cabin, he found Marie curled up and whimpering softly. The rest of the day was the most agonizing Nick had ever endured. She was slowly dying from dehydration and though he tried to give her fluids, she couldn’t swallow them. As the sun set, a broken cry emanated from her ravaged form -- a mindless keen of a beast in incomprehensible pain. 

Deciding that it was time for the morphine, he picked up the syringe and tried remember Dr. Stevens’ instructions, how to raise a vein and slide the needle in. His hands trembled uncontrollably while tears slipped down his face, making the job of finding her wasted vein more difficult. He was afraid that since he had no idea what he was doing, he was screwing up and making things worse. For the first time in days, he wished for Juliette, thinking that she could at least manage to drug a dying woman without trouble.

After fiddling with the tourniquet, he finally found a trail of blue on the inside of her elbow. The needle slipped into the engorged vessel and Nick depressed the plunger with a feeling of unabashed relief.

In a few moments, Marie’s clenched body relaxed, but she was farther away than ever, lost on some road that he couldn’t take with her. The restless twitching stopped though, as did the noise, so Nick supposed that the drug was doing its work. Aunt Marie’s face took on the cast of a waxen statue, but her chest continued to rise and fall, though not without harsh labor. The pause between each breath became longer and longer, until finally the pause lengthened beyond the possibility of recovery. 

Not moving for a long time, Nick stared at her still form, just in case. But finally, he was forced to acknowledge that she would never take another breath, and he drew the sheet over her face.

Standing shakily on legs that didn’t seem to work properly, Nick felt as exhausted as though he’d work a double shift and had spent it chasing pickpockets the whole time. Seeing no reason to delay, he wanted to carry out her wished immediately, but he couldn’t face his onerous duty without some sleep to regain his energy and will.

The cabin was dark and hushed, and with a glance at the clock, Nick saw with a sense of shock that it was nearly four in the morning. Dragging himself up the stairs to his loft, Nick collapsed on the bed and let sleep take him.

When he woke up, the slant of the autumn sunlight told him that it was the middle of the afternoon. Padding downstairs, a distant small part of Nick hoped that the previous night was somehow a dream, but knowing it wasn’t. 

Pushing open the bedroom door, he found Marie where he left her. Nick ground his knuckles into his eye sockets, feeling physically drained and mentally unable to make his weary brain function. He supposed that he should really try to get a death certificate, but Marie lived so much of her life off the grid that no one would probably notice her missing. Not in the legal sense anyway. As a police officer, Nick knew he was probably skirting some pretty serious consequences and unanswerable questions if it ever came out, but the greater part of him wanted carry out her wishes and then move on with his life.

After eating a piece of bread that was all he could handle, Nick gathered up Marie’s body, still swathed in the sheet and carried it outside to the pyre. He thought she would be much lighter in death after her illness, but she seemed remarkably heavy and he was out of breath by the time he reached the rough stack of timber. 

Nick arranged his aunt’s body on the pyre with her head pointing towards the mountain peaks and her feet facing down the valley. Going into the shed, he dragged out a can of gasoline that he found there and with tears getting out of his control and streaking down his face, he poured it over the still body on the pyre saturating the sheet.

Words wouldn’t come to him. Facing the high peaks, Nick tried his best to find some sort of valediction for the occasion, but the shocks and turmoil of the last few weeks left him unable to find anything that he could put his faith on.

“Rest in peace,” he murmured finally.

He waited until the sun fell away down the valley. As darkness drew close, Nick knew it was time.

Touching the torch to the kindling, Nick stepped back quickly as the blaze immediately flared up. The hideous smell of burning flesh wafted on the slight breeze. Nick breathed through his nose, determined to endure it.

As the fire died away, Nick retreated to the steps of the porch, watching intently for a stray spark and keeping the water tub close at hand to prevent a disastrous fire. So focused was he that he didn’t see them at first, not until they had cleared the eaves of the forest and the nearly full moon glinted on the sharp tines as the stag tossed his head.

The movement caught Nick’s attention, and looking up, he was shocked to see a small red-brown cat perched on the withers of a stag with five-pointed antlers.

“Maura?”

The stag leaped towards him, landing lightly beside the steps, and then with another prodigious leap, he landed on the roof of the cabin. The cat jumped off his back after the first leap and wound her sinuous body around Nick’s ankles.

“Maura. Where did you come from?”

Wondering how the cat had possibly survived all the years that he’d been gone, Nick put his hand down and let her sniff delicately at him. She hopped gracefully into his lap, her paws kneading his thigh as she rubbed her jaw against him. Then she stopped and sniffed carefully at the scar on his shoulder. Wondering if she remembered Eddie, Nick scratched her ears.

With a satisfied chirrup, she sat up, tucking her tail around her paws and staring at him intently. Making an effort to use his Grimm abilities for the first time since he’d learned of them, Nick studied her, trying to see if she was more than a cat. 

While he could see that there was something _other_ about her, he couldn’t tell what she was, and he gave up after a moment, not before he had a brief vision of a beautiful woman within her furry form.

From the roof, the stag stomped his hooves and sparkles of jewels flew in the moonlight, reminding Nick of the night that all of this had started, and the wild dance between the cat and the stag.

“Did you know what he was all along, Maura?” Nick asked the cat. “Did you know that I would love him?”

The cat gave no answer, not even a purr of agreement, but her eyes seemed wise and deep, ancient and grave.

“You did,” Nick breathed, answering his own question, but filled with the certainty that Maura had meant for him to befriend the wolf. 

She settled back on her haunches, rumbling purr starting up.

“He chose the path of the Wieder,” Nick continued. “He’s a good man. I want to be with him more than anything, but I’m afraid of putting him in danger. Aunt Marie said a Grimm must walk alone. She gave up her own love to be a Grimm.”

Maura rose to her feet and called something to the stag prancing on the roof. The deer jumped down, landing lightly beside them. He whuffled at Maura, who said something else in cat-language to him. Nick stared at the animal, clearly seeing that he was something other than he appeared, but his other form was so radiant that Nick could barely stand to look at him. He pushed away the Grimm sight and saw again the small deer with one silver hoof and gracefully curving antlers.

“Silvershod? Monroe said that was your name. And that you were the only one.”

Maura leaped from his lap to the stag’s back and curled up contentedly. Looking from one to the other, Nick came to the realization of what they were trying to say to him. 

Wondering why they didn’t just change form and state things more plainly, but accepting that they meant to help him, Nick made his decision. “You’ve been together all these years, haven’t you? That’s it, right? I don’t have to be alone. Monroe’s got his own power and he’s strong enough to make a good partner for a Grimm. That was Aunt Marie’s mistake – giving up her creature lover. He could have helped her.”

Maura winked at him and Nick laughed, feeling free of all the troubles that had heaped themselves on his head. 

He stood up. “Will you take me to him?” he asked the stag.

Silvershod stamped his foot, sending jewels arching into the grass. Nick didn’t have the slightest impulse to look for them, and part of him marveled that such treasure had never had any allure for him. Maura moved so that Nick had room to climb onto the stag’s back. Wary of misinterpreting their intent, and not wanting one of those antlers imbedded in his belly, Nick moved cautiously. But both animals waited patiently for him to settle, and he gripped the animal’s sides with his knees not knowing where he could hold on.

With a mighty leap, the stag jumped to the far side of the glade. Traveling on the back of the deer was nothing like Eddie’s smooth lope and Nick ducked his head as they soared high amongst the branches. They landed with a jolt and then rose again. 

On the verge of feeling sick when they finally stopped in front of Monroe’s hut, Nick slid off Silvershod’s back gratefully. 

“Thank you,” he said to cat and deer. “I’ll think of you often.” Something told him that he would never see the two of them again, but their memories would always be a bright place in his heart.

With another bound, they disappeared into the trees, leaving him alone in front of Monroe’s door. Knocking softly, Nick wondered why the Blutbad hadn’t already opened the door, as he must have scented Nick and his companions. He hoped desperately that Monroe hadn’t already returned to Portland.

When Monroe opened the door, his brown eyes were shadowed with some unnamed emotion, but his tall, rugged form filling Nick’s heart with a gladness that he couldn’t begin to describe. Relief flooded him as the tension from fighting with himself dispersed.

“I thought you would be gone already,” Monroe said.

“No. Can I come in?”

“Of course.” 

“Aunt Marie died,” Nick started.

“I know.”

“I changed my mind,” Nick said softly, afraid that Monroe might have changed his. 

“About what?” Monroe asked, but Nick could clearly see the hope in his eyes, and something eased in his chest. The fear that Monroe might turn him away dissipated in the night air.

“I want to move to Portland. I want to be with you. Is that okay?”

“Okay?” Monroe shouted, striding forward to catch Nick around the waist. “You stupid Grimm. How do I have such an idiot for a mate?”

Nick laughed, wrapping his arms around Monroe’s shoulders. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Sliding his hands under Nick’s thighs, Monroe lifted him up and moved them over to his daybed, tugging at Nick’s clothes as soon as he dropped the smaller man onto the mattress. Diving in for a kiss, Monroe plundered his mouth and Nick moaned, letting him take whatever he wanted. 

A nip at the bite on his shoulder pulled Nick out of his daze of pleasure. He felt fierce and bold.

“I could bite you too, you know.”

“What’s stopping you?”

Feeling all the pent-up emotions he’d been feeling for the last few weeks finally snapping his control, Nick went with his urges. His fingers arched into claws and he bared his teeth. He snapped at Monroe’s shoulders while at the same time he spread his legs and shamelessly tipped his ass up, begging for Monroe to thrust inside him. As his muscles burned when Monroe entered him, Nick surged up, latching onto Monroe’s earlobe and grinding his teeth together. 

Liquid burst over his tongue and Nick lost it – biting and scratching and not caring if he hurt his lover. The dim part of his mind that was still aware pointed out that Monroe was part wolf and thus could probably handle anything Nick could inflict on him.

Pleasure bloomed through him that was tempered with pain and Nick welcomed both gladly, howling in triumph.

As his frenzy eased away, Nick became conscious of a steady murmur of reassurance and praise coming from Monroe. 

“It’s okay, Nick. Just take it. You can do it.”

Opening his eyes, Nick found himself staring at Monroe’s bloodstained mouth. He swallowed, tasting iron on his own tongue, and realized that he’d probably hurt Monroe in his grief. He flinched, feeling guilty, but felt the tug of fullness where their bodies were joined.

“Easy.”

Monroe’s voice had fallen into the raspy growl of barely distinguishable words that happened when he was partially changed.

Pain and pleasure warred inside Nick’s body, but when Monroe hitched his legs up higher, taking some of the pressure off his back, the aching fullness morphed into pure bliss.

“Sorry,” Monroe said. “But the wolf really liked that. I lost control of it.”

_It_ seemed to be Monroe’s knot that was currently splitting Nick open. 

“Good,” Nick snarled.

Giving him a fierce grin, Monroe growled, “You fuck like a Blutbad.”

Aware that they weren’t in the optimum position for Monroe to knot him, Nick silently endured the stretch of his hamstrings while Monroe flushed his channel with seed. Watching Monroe’s face contort with his drawn-out orgasm, Nick felt dirty in a really good way. He wanted Monroe to smear come all over him, mark him up, make every Wesen with a nose know who his mate was.

After a long age where the protests from Nick’s muscles began to outweigh the pleasure of having Monroe buried inside him, the Blutbad finally lowered Nick’s legs and drew out. Nick let Monroe manhandle him onto his side and tangle them together. His wildness seemed to have drained away and while everything still hurt, Nick felt like he could cope a little better.

When he woke up, Monroe lay on his side, head on his hand, watching. His pale skin was marred with bruises and scratches that Nick refused to feel guilty about.

He leaned forward and rubbed his lips over Monroe’s beard before finally finding his mouth and licking into it.

“Do I get to fuck you sometimes?”

With a snort, Monroe rolled over to his front, stretching his spine out and then settling onto the mattress. Nick lost his train of thought at the sight of all that glorious skin and lean muscles.

Monroe cracked an eye at him. “Well Grimm? Get to topping.”

Laughing and shaking his head, Nick considered what to do first. He slid over Monroe’s back until he could sit on the Blutbad’s ass. Under his thighs, Monroe seemed perfectly relaxed and content to let Nick do whatever he wanted, which messed with Nick’s concept of what their relationship would be like. He’d resigned himself to the submissive role, the eternal bottom, but perhaps he should rethink that. Monroe apparently didn’t plan to fit them into neat little categories.

Remembering the ancient Grimm handbook that Marie had shown him, Nick scooted down Monroe’s thighs until he could lick at the patch of skin at the base of Monroe’s spine.

The wolf nearly shot off the bed when Nick first touched him there, but he stilled his twitching muscles with a clear effort. 

“Does this hurt?” Nick asked, concerned that the concentration of nerves reputedly located there would lead to only pain.

“No,” Monroe growled.

Nick bent his head again, licking carefully, adding just the slightest hint of teeth. Monroe squirmed, but Nick watched his movements carefully and saw that his thrashing hips were actually grinding down onto the bed. Nick didn’t bother hiding his smirk as he nuzzled Monroe’s skin.

He backed up further and wormed his way between Monroe’s thighs, spreading his legs and exposing his hair-covered ass. Nick ducked down, burying his nose in the damp hair and inhaling deeply. Maybe Grimms were part creature too, because Nick couldn’t find anything disgusting about the smell there. It was pungent and rich but belonged to Monroe and thus reached into his hindbrain and yanked him forward.

Nick tongued through the hair until he located the twitching muscle beneath, vulnerable and ready to be plundered. Making sure he had a good grip on Monroe’s hips, he pushed forward until the muscle parted for his tongue. He licked eagerly, slurping at Monroe’s hole until the hair was matted with his saliva and Monroe was howling non-stop.

Reaching for the lube, Nick dribbled it carelessly over his dick and then braced on one hand so he could line himself up with Monroe’s dripping opening.

As Nick slid into Monroe, the contact between them seemed to cause the bite on his neck to throb. Struggling for control with his head spinning and every instinct he possessed screaming at him to take what his mate was offering, Nick dropped his head, panting raggedly. Beneath him, Monroe squirmed, trying to work himself on Nick’s cock.

Nick slipped forward another millimeter and finally bottomed out inside the bigger man. Monroe seemed willing to wait for him to gather his composure, although the Blutbad’s breathing was anything but calm.

Stroking lightly in an effort to keep his body in check, Nick felt tendrils of enchantment winding around the two of them, the same feeling he had gotten before when Monroe had first knotted him. The physical act seemed to affect the magic of Monroe’s claim and Nick felt it flowing back, circling around and growing stronger with each push of his hips.

“Do you feel that?” he whispered in awe.

Monroe rumbled something into the mattress and twisted his hips, seeming to take Nick in deeper and making his eyes cross. He snapped his hips forward in retaliation and Monroe groaned, scrabbling with his knees to get traction enough to push back. Nick pounded him relentlessly, mindless to anything except the growing pleasure inside his own body. He screamed when it finally spilled over and he unloaded inside Monroe’s warm body.

Pulling out quickly, he urged Monroe to turn over so Nick could get at his dick. He sucked the large shaft into his mouth, not caring how much Monroe’s girth stretched his jaws. Nick tugged and fondled, not giving Monroe time to catch his breath. When he felt Monroe’s balls pull up, Nick let go of his cock, but he kept jacking the Blutbad until Monroe spurted. Nick aimed the spasming cock at his hair and face, getting Monroe’s seed all over him.

When he slid back up for a kiss, he found Monroe staring at him with red-tinged eyes.

“Holy fuck.”

Nick smeared his messy face in Monroe’s chest hair, wondering if he was going too far, but the primitive side of him wanted both of them bathed in each other’s scent.

He fell asleep with Monroe’s big hands carding through his hair, and he woke up when his stomach churned emptily. Monroe stirred and sat up, while Nick protested the lack of his warmth sleepily.

“Hang on,” Monroe soothed him.

Nick watched as Monroe moved through the tiny hut in the darkness, putting a kettle on the wood stove and pulling things out of his storage pantry. The dim firelight from the stove illuminated Monroe’s form as he dipped a cloth in the warmed water and gave himself a sponge bath. He wrung the cloth out and then turned to Nick, washing him tenderly, cleaning the cuts and scratches from earlier and then turning him over. The warm material felt good on his stretched and sore asshole and Nick sighed contently as his mate tended him.

Monroe rinsed the cloth one last time and then picked up a knife, cutting thick slices of bread and some cheese. He brought the makeshift meal to the bed where Nick pounced on the provender greedily. He’d barely eaten anything over the past two days and his appetite had returned with a vengeance. 

They rested comfortably against each other, content and warm.

“What are your plans?” Monroe asked. 

The night was drawing back in the face of the coming dawn, leaving everything in the hut washed out shades of grey. Nick curled against Monroe’s chest, unwilling to speak of leaving, but he knew that he had business to deal with before he could move north.

“Go back to San Francisco. Get my stuff from Juliette and let her yell at me if she needs to. That’s my first priority. Apply to the Portland PD, quit my job, and then pack up my stuff. Mooch off of you until I find a place. You mind?”

Monroe laughed, raking his blunted claws down Nick’s back. “Of course not. I’ll have my mate under my roof with me and that’s all I really need.”

“I’ll have to figure out something to do with Marie’s cabin and all her Grimm tools.”

“You’ll need them.”

“I guess so. I won’t kill without cause, I promise.”

“For me?” Monroe asked lightly.

“Partly for you,” Nick answered. “But mostly for me. I can’t be that kind of Grimm. I couldn’t live with myself.”

∼∴∼

With all his possessions in his truck, Nick pulled onto Interstate 5, headed north. Seeing Juliette one last time hadn’t been easy, but he felt they both needed the closure instead of a hurried phone call.

She had wished him well in the end, and Nick had left her with a small amount of regret for what might have been, but his life would never follow a conventional path. Even without Monroe, Aunt Marie was right about one thing – an ordinary human could never hope to be a fit partner for a Grimm.

As the long miles rolled under his wheels, Nick had more than a few moments of nerves and uncertainty. He had upended his life for a man that he essentially barely knew, all on the strength of some fairy tale magic. Real life wasn’t made like that. He knew next to nothing about Monroe, none of the basics, like his favorite color or his favorite band or even his favorite vegetable, which is something he should definitely know since Monroe was off the red meat diet. He spent several miles freaking out about what side of the bed Monroe liked.

But when Nick pulled up at the address in Portland that Monroe had given him and found himself starting a quaint and neatly kept cottage across from a thick belt of woods, he realized that he already knew the important things about Monroe and had since he was twelve years old. The rest was just details.

Leaving his truck in the driveway, he followed the pavestone path to the front door and knocked briskly.

In a moment, Monroe was there, looking delicious in flannel and a Henley, something that Nick had never before imagined finding hot. 

“You made it.”

“Yeah.”

“Welcome home.”

Monroe tugged him inside, hands fitting into familiar spots and pressing Nick against his much larger body. Nick sighed into the kiss, his doubts vanishing in the face of the reality of the comfort offered by his mate. They would be okay.

Pulling back from his greeting finally, Monroe asked, “Hungry?”

“Yeah, I could eat.”

Laughing, Monroe wrapped his arm around Nick’s shoulders, eager to steer him through the house and into the kitchen.

Nick turned one last time and gazed at the line of mountains curving away to the west. Somewhere out in the vast reaches of the forest, perhaps there was a stag who could strike jewels with his hoof and a small reddish-brown cat that danced under the moon with him.

Nick smiled to himself and followed Monroe into his new home.

~END


End file.
